


Lover

by 06_blue_eyed_boys_28



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Beach House, Beach Volleyball, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas Presents, Christmas Tree, College Losers Club (IT), Completed, Crying, Cussing, Dad Richie Tozier, Day At The Beach, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak is Bad at Feelings, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Good Significant Other, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier is Canon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier-centric, Eddie Vedder - Freeform, Eddie and Richie are Soulmates, Eggnog, Emotions, Eventual Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gay Panic, Georgie Denbrough Lives, Hawaii, Honeymoon, Hurt/Comfort, Lover - Freeform, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Married Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Mike Hanlon and Eddie Kaspbrak are Best Friends, Mike Hanlon is a Good Friend, Mike and Julie have two kids, Mike is Eddie's therapist tbh, Minor Mike Hanlon/Original Character(s), Mutual Pining, Pearl Jam - Freeform, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Reddie, Richie Tozier Being Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier Being a Dumbass, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Good Significant Other, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Richie has a daughter, Richie knows how to braid his daughters hair in so many different styles, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Richie Tozier, Song fic, Song: Afterglow (Taylor Swift), Song: Death By A Thousand Cuts (Taylor Swift), Song: Everything Has Changed (Taylor Swift), Song: I and Love and You (The Avett Brothers), Song: Ice Cream (Sarah McLachlan), Song: Lover (Taylor Swift), Song: Tennessee Whiskey (Chris Stapleton), Song: You've Got to Hide Your Love Away (Eddie Vedder), Stenbrough, The Losers Club Have Kids, The Losers Club Love Each Other (IT), Very very minor, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Night, Wedding Planning, Weddings, a good dad, benverly - Freeform, benverly host christmas every year, benverly take the lead with three kids, beverly Marsh and Richie Tozier are best friends, completed work, eddie cries a lot...?, emilia is amazing, eventual reddie, gay wedding, good job bev, he says yes btw, he's also a dad, he's everyone's therapist, her name is emilia and she's a sweetie, im not wrong, kind of, loser, modern losers, none of them look like her, reddie angst, reddie ofc have em and ryder, relatively, richie and eddie make lesbian friends, richie redeems himself from the first few chapters, she is a sarcastic queen, she's not mad, stan and bill have a daughter, the losers are all 23, the losers just got out of college, they also have a beach house, they play beach volleyball together, they're super cool, why isn't that a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 75,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23385388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/06_blue_eyed_boys_28/pseuds/06_blue_eyed_boys_28
Summary: it's been five years.five years since they'd last talked, or even seen each other, for that matter. and a lot can change in five years.orthe fic where richie made some questionable decisions, is 23, has a daughter, and he and eddie are still helplessly pining after each other, even after richie royally messed up.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Minor Mike Hanlon/Original Character
Comments: 77
Kudos: 101





	1. Death By A Thousand Cuts

**Author's Note:**

> uh hi !  
> richie and eddie are like my otp at the moment, and i was listening to music, like you do and i heard this song (death by a thousand cuts by taylor swift, if anyone wants to go listen) and my brain just SCREAMED reddie, so i came up with a playlist and an entire fic just birthed itself in my brain (kinda like the turtle birthed the universe)  
> aNyWaY  
> its gonna be a wild ride of angst, fluff, tears, and love so if you're up for it go ahead and leave kudos and review it'd mean a lot to me <3  
> okay, thanks for reading this whole paragraph, on with the fic! :)

Richie wakes slowly but surely, pain bursting behind his eyelids and making its way through his entire skull. 

Another migraine. That’s okay. He hasn’t had one in a while. 

He sits up, gingerly rubbing his temple with one hand and reaching for his glasses with the other. It’s 3 o’clock in the morning, and… oh. It’s June 1st. 

Wow. It’s been five years. 

Five years since he made the dumbest mistake of his life. 

Five years since he let, no, not let, pushed and basically begged for Eddie to walk away from him. 

He was so stupid, _so_ stupid, naive, and in so much pain. The pounding behind his eyelids gets worse. He stands, accepting that he’s not going back to sleep, and goes to get a glass of water and some aspirin. 

He turns on the TV and watches an SNL skit that he’s surely seen before because he doesn’t find it nearly as funny as he usually would. 

_“Richie! Are you even paying attention to me?”_

_Richie looked up from whatever he was doing at the time, eyes glossy. “Of course I am, Eds.”_

_“No, you’re not. You’re fucking not! You’ve been out late again doing who knows what, and tell me- tell me how the hell are you supposed to get into college when you won’t even go to class? And when you’re falling asleep in the classes you do attend? And when most of the time, you’re not even falling asleep naturally?!” Eddie’s eyes were glistening with tears and he was nearing hysterics at that point._

_“‘M not going to college,” Richie mumbled, head nodding._

_Eddie sets the papers down on his desk with a smack._

_Richie’s head shot up._

_“Richie, why are you doing this to yourself,” Eddie said incredibly softly, hoping,_ praying _that this would be more effective than yelling._

_“I don't know what you’re talking about,” Richie slurred, crossing his arms over his chest. He stood up and attempted to walk to his bed, fell a few times, and then just laid down on the floor beside it._

_“Well I am.”_

_“What?” Richie asked._

_“I am going to college.”_

_“Fine. Go. Leave me here alone to die.”_

_Eddie gasps. “What the fuck, Richie? What the actual fuck. You think- that’s not-” Eddie breaks off, tears blurring his gaze. “Fuck you. FUCK. YOU. This is not a joke! Yeah, you’re right, you’re right, Richie, you’re right! You’re killing yourself!”_

_Richie had been in and out of consciousness at that point._

He can’t really remember the rest of that conversation. Just that he fell asleep off some heroin high and Eddie had stormed out, probably to go cry to Mike or Bill, and damn it, it should have been Richie he was crying to. 

But instead, Richie was the one making him cry. 

Richie palms his eyes to stop the tears and help alleviate his headache. 

Stupid, stupid, _stupid…_

_“Come on, Richie. I know you’re not stupid,” Eddie said._

_They were in Eddie’s room this time, and Richie was sober, but nursing a nasty hangover._

_Richie scoffed. “Yeah, but I actually am.”_

_“Would you just help me study? Please?”_

_Richie rolled his eyes. “None of this shit matters, why are you even trying?”_

_Eddie was quiet for a minute. “Well at least I’m trying at something.” He could feel tears pricking behind his eyes, and he blinked them back. He grabbed his flashcards out of Richie’s hands and walked over to his desk to study by himself._

Richie pulls his hands away from his face and tries to focus on the TV. He should be over this shit by now. It’s been five years. But somehow, instead of getting better and moving on, Richie only hurts worse and worse every year. 

_“Richie, can you just be serious for one second?”_

_Richie hummed, not really caring or paying attention to Eddie, who was probably going on another one of his useless rants._

_“I want to know what happened last night. Why did you call me so fucking late? Where were you?”_

_“Nowhere,” Richie replied._

_“You were obviously somewhere. You were bawling your eyes out. Were you drunk? Were you drinking again?”_

_“No,” Richie lied._

_“You’re lying,” Eddie said immediately._

_“No I’m not!”_

_“Yes, you are! You are, and I’m sick of it! I’m sick of you not telling me shit, calling me at 4 in the morning and expecting me to come save your sorry ass every damn time! I’m sick of you saying nothing matters and putting down my hopes and dreams and hey, guess what, not wanting to go to college is fine but I_ want _to go, and lately, you’ve been making me feel pretty bad for that.”_

_Richie looked up from his very interesting fingernails._

_“You’ve been making me feel pretty bad for a lot of shit lately, and I’m DONE PUTTING UP WITH YOUR BULLSHIT WOULD YOU LOOK AT ME AND NOT THE CEILING!” Eddie screamed, angry tears falling from his baby brown eyes._

_Richie looked at him and felt numb._

_He felt absolutely nothing._

_But he didn’t feel anything at all most days, and when he did, he tried his best to find a way to make it go away, so that’s not really saying much._

_“Well, it seems like we’re done here, Edward Spaghedward.”_

_“You don't_ get _to call me that,_ anymore _,” Eddie said, seething with anger._

_Then his face softened. “And… what…?”_

_“You heard me. We’re done here. You want to go to college. I don't. Long-distance relationships never work out. Especially not ones like this.”_

_He watched Eddie’s pretty brown eyes fill with tears and then spill over and onto his freckled cheeks._

_He felt nothing. Just an intense need for a cigarette, and maybe some of that new powder he got from that one guy… what was his name…? He forgot._

_He felt nothing now, but as soon as Eddie actually left he knew he was gonna feel shit, and he couldn’t, he absolutely could not-_

_“Okay,” the ice in Eddie’s voice brought Richie out of his thoughts. He’d never heard him speak like that before._

_Eddie opens his closet and hands him back all of the clothes he’s left here over the past three years. He hands him the cassette tape he made for Eddie’s 16th birthday, the pictures they took in the photobooth at the carnival, the stuffed animal he won, the DVDs he brought over for movie night sophomore year, it seemed everything Richie's ever touched Eddie wanted out, out, out-_

_“And if my things aren’t back here by 8am sharp tomorrow morning,” Eddie started, in the same icy cold tone. “I don't know what the fuck I’m going to do.”_

_Richie nodded, but didn’t move._

_“Well?”_

_Richie looked up._

_“Oh my gosh, Richard. Get out of my fucking house!”_

_So he did._

_He left and gathered all of Eddie’s things into a box and delivered it to his house at 7:59 sharp the next day, June 2nd._

_He had started feeling things by then, and he knew he needed to stop._

_Bev came over later that day, and he remembered her screaming at him but not what she said. He remembered the other losers paying him visits, but he never went to the quarry or the Aladdin with them, or… anywhere with anyone really._

_He bought drugs from this guy who hung out in the alleys near the Aladdin, and sometimes they smoked pot together, but they never spoke._

_Never laughed._

_Never felt._

_And Richie didn’t feel again._

_Not for a very, very long time._

“Daddy…?” a sweet, high voice asks. 

“Emilia,” Richie says, startled. “C’mere, Em, what are you doing up this late?” 

Emilia walks over to him, green blanket trailing behind her. “Thirsty,” she says. 

“Oh, okay. Sit down, I’ll get you some water.” He grabs a plastic cup for her and fills with cool water, no ice. 

“Here you go, sugar. Do you think you can get back to bed now?” 

She nods, dark brown curls bouncing slightly. “Carry?” she asks quietly. 

“Of course,” Richie replies, picking her up. “Goodnight, sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite,” he says with a smirk, tucking her in. 

She giggles and then yawns, and he knows she’s okay.

He’s okay.

He’s done okay.

Emilia. 

The source of his feelings for the past four years. 

His daughter.

After Eddie left, things got rough.

Really rough. 

_Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts_

Richie just delved deeper and deeper into drugs, sometimes passing out for hours, waking up, and not knowing where he was.

The night right after he and Eddie broke up was the first. 

He must’ve passed out for around… it must’ve been at _least_ a day. Everything hurt when he woke up, but somehow, the stars blurring his vision still reminded him of Eddie’s freckles. The drugs didn’t fucking work. He loved Eddie too much. He still loved him. He still _felt._

He’d get drunk off his ass and sleep with women, even though he wasn’t particularly attracted to them. He’d been careful not to get any pregnant, though, until around four years ago. 

A woman who he’d never met before knocked on his door, dropped a bundle in his arms and then left without a single word.

He’d peeled open the blanket to discover a tiny, sleeping baby, and he ran after the woman, confused and disoriented and mildly hung over and all she said was,

“It’s yours.”

That’s about all he knows about Emilia’s mother and that’s all he needs to know. 

She’s a bitch, but to be fair, so was he, at the time. 

He set Emilia, well, she didn’t have a name back then, so he set the baby down in the middle of his bed and then got wasted out of his mind. 

He must’ve called Bev because soon enough she had shown up at his door, smacked him across the face, and started yelling at him about how he had to get his shit together and blah, blah, blah… 

Then the baby started crying and Bev turned to him, appalled.

“Holy shit. You weren’t kidding.” 

Richie shook his head, and that's about all he remembers from that day. 

He wishes he hadn’t fucked up so bad earlier on, because then he’d be able to remember more. It sucks having really bad migraines all the time, and on top of that, being able to remember about half of your late teen years.

But those were just the stupid decisions he made.

All because he didn’t want to feel things. 

He didn’t want to feel _normal_ , teen emotions.

Richie looks at his watch for what must be the fourth time that minute. It’s only 2:30. It’s going to be a long day. 

He racks his brain, trying to remember anything he can from those 9 months after Eddie left and Emilia wasn’t born yet. Those months where he was utterly alone with his thoughts and feelings. 

Because now he wants to. He wants to remember, and cope. 

Before, all he wanted to do was forget.

But now, all he wants to think about is Eddie. And he _knows_ it’s not healthy, but he can’t help it. He can’t stop thinking about Eddie and what could’ve been. Sometimes it feels like he’s dying, honestly. 

But not in the way he was before.

Before he was killing himself because of the desire to feel numb.

Now, he feels like he’s killing himself mentally because of how much he wants to feel.

He remembers getting wasted and waking up and still remembering.

It wasn’t enough. He didn’t know what he had to do to forget.

So he just figured he couldn’t, and he’d be forced to remember and think and feel and _live._

And it’s not so bad. He’s got Emilia and Bev and Ben, and he’s pretty sure Bill, Stan, and Mike don't _hate_ him-

But he doesn’t have Eddie.

And he never will. 

He curls up on the couch and focuses on the blue light of the TV screen, uses that and the pain in his head to keep himself awake while he thinks, feels, and makes sure to never forget. 

* * *

“Eddie. Wake up,” Mike says, flicking the lights on and opening the blinds. “We’re going home today, remember?” 

Eddie opens his eyes and shields them against the light. “Hm?” 

“Back to Derry. We’re going to see everyone again. We graduated. Damn. You must’ve had more fun at the after party than I thought-”

Eddie throws a pillow at Mike to shut him up. “No, I know, I just didn’t-” he yawns, effectively cutting himself off from rambling about absolutely nothing. “You know.”

“Yeah, sure,” Mike says. He’s lived with Eddie for their entire four years of college, so he knows he needs coffee, a shower, and a morning run to even start to make sense. “Well, we’re leaving in an hour and a half and you said you’d drive first and I can see you still have some shit to pack up, so… just thought I’d let you know.”

“Mhm,” Eddie says, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Mike says, and then walks out.

Eddie reaches for his phone and sees the date in cold white letters, loud and clear. 

June 1st. 

He wishes that the date means nothing to him. He pretends it doesn’t. 

He walks over to his closet and grabs a pink sweater and a pair of jean shorts. They’re the only things left in his closet. The only things left to pack are his bedding and toiletries, and that shouldn’t take long. He takes a quick shower and dresses. This outfit isn't fancy or anything. 

It's not like he's dressing up for anybody. 

Just the losers. 

He's just going to see his friends. 

And possibly R-

No. 

_That bitch hurt you and he’s probably fucking dead! He probably died of heroin overdose like four years ago so quit your stupid pining and accept that you weren’t good enough for him!_

_He’s not a bitch._

Eddie continues to war with himself in his mind as he sips his morning coffee. It’s sweet, just how he likes it. 

Richie always drank his black. 

Eddie wants to scream at himself. 

Why can’t he just forget? Why can’t he just move on like a normal person?

“Yo, Eddie, ready to go?” Mike calls from the doorway. 

Eddie nods and grabs his bags. “Yep.”

They’re not coming back, and surprisingly, that thought isn't it very scary to Eddie. He feels like there’s a whole world outside of college, just for him, a world full of new things for him to learn and explore and love. 

Not that kind of love.  
Never, that kind of love again- 

“Let’s go, Eddie! We can’t be late!” Mike yells from outside.

“Coming!” 

Eddie takes one last look at their humble apartment and then they’re on their way. 

“Why are you taking this street? If you go the other way we’ll get there faster…?” Mike asks, confused. 

Eddie tightens his grip on the wheel. “Just, this way is more… fun.”

Mike shrugs. “Okay.” He pops and earbud in and then it’s quiet.

The truth is, Eddie doesn’t want to go home because he doesn’t know what he’ll find. Sure, there’s a whole world outside of college and it’s going to be _amazing_ , but that world… that world could include Richie. 

_If he’s still alive._

_Of course he’s alive,_ Eddie’s rational side argues.

There’s no way Bev would’ve let him die-

_But you almost did._

Eddie grips the wheel harder, ‘til his knuckles turn white. 

He glares at all the green lights they pass stupidly. They’re inanimate objects controlled by sensors, it’s not like they did anything. If anything, it’s the people in this town he should be mad at because there’s no traffic. 

He could really just ask Mike about Richie.

But that would show that he’s thinking about him, that he still, after five whole years, cares about him, and he can’t let anyone know that he’s been pining and thinking about his drug-addicted ex boyfriend since they broke up because that is pitiful.

Eddie looks at the “Welcome to Derry” sign with wary eyes. 

He remembers when he and Richie used to hang out there. They’d laugh, talk, chew gum, stargaze, and watch the cars go by, watch everyone’s lives go by because they were living theirs, and they were content.

Eddie doesn’t know what went wrong.

At first, he honestly thought it was something he did, and he kept asking Richie and asking and Richie, back when he could still think clearly, always told him, “‘s not your fault, Eds, I just need some alone time. I’ve made some new friends, aren’tcha proud of me? Never thought you’d see the day.”

But then it started getting worse. Richie called him late at night, a crying, blubbering, mess, begging for Eddie to come pick him up at whatever address he’d landed himself at this time. And Eddie always did. 

And it was weird but it was still manageable. 

Until Richie started getting into the powdery drugs. 

Then Eddie stepped out, said he couldn’t be involved. And he felt horrible but he told Richie to call Bev, and 

_“Call Bev? Call Bev? You’re my fucking boyfriend Eds, you’re supposed to take care of me!” Richie yelled over the phone._

_“I’m supposed to love and support you, but I’m not going to support this! Richie I can’t fucking_ do _this anymore!”_

_“Yes, you can. Just come pick me up, please come pick me up, I promise I won’t do it again, I swear on my life-”_

_“Your life clearly doesn’t mean anything to you at this point,” Eddie mumbled sadly._

_“Just come pick me up,” Richie said, angry now._

_“No! Call Bev, or stay there ‘til morning! Maybe it’ll teach you a lesson!”_

_“Teach me a lesson? Teach me a- Eddie you’re not my fucking Mom!”_

_He called him Eddie._

_That was further proof that something was terribly, horribly wrong with Richie’s mind._

_“Yeah, I know I’m not but I certainly feel like it with the way you’re treating me!”_

_“Just come pick me up-”_

_“NO!” Eddie screamed, and hung up the phone._

_He sank to the floor, the phone falling out of his hand as he pulled his fingers through his hair and screamed out in pure agony and heartbreak._

_“WHY? Why, why, why, why, why…” he mumbled brokenly to himself. He cried there, on the floor, for a few hours, at least until Bill came over to let him know Richie was still alive and-_

_“Thank goodness,” Eddie breathed. Because he could finally do that again. He didn’t feel like he was being strangled, drowned, and buried alive anymore._

_But the next night, that helpless drowning feeling came back. It went away in the morning but came back the next night, and the next, and the next…_

_He couldn’t take it anymore._

_He exploded on June 1st and he couldn’t fucking help it, and at the time, he was glad he did but now…_

Whatever he and Richie had is surely long gone by now. 

Richie’s not dead, but he’s either still doped up on drugs or has a girlfriend so Eddie needs to get a hold over himself. 

It’s over.

It’s over, it’s over, it’s really, really over. 

_'Cause saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts_

Something squeezes Eddie’s heart as he pulls up to Bev and Ben’s apartment on the outskirts of Derry. This is where they’ll be staying for the next few weeks, while they’re apartment hunting and figuring out who they’re rooming with, and adult things like that. 

“Eddie!” Bev exclaims, opening the door. “Mike! Oh my goodness, it’s been so long!”

“Eddie, have you gotten taller?” Ben teases. 

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Oh, shut up. C’mere. Bring it in.”

Eddie and Ben hug first, and then Bev and Mike join in for one big group hug. 

“Aw… you guys are su-su-such saps,” Bill comments from the doorway.

“Bill!” Eddie exclaims, and pulls him in. 

“I am not getting involved in this,” Stan says dryly.

“Y-y-yes you are,” Bill stutters, grabbing his arm and pulling him in as well. 

“The Losers Club, once again.”

Nobody mentions Richie, but everybody is thinking of him.

And though he’d never admit it, Eddie is thinking of him the most. 

“So how was college? It’s been way too long since you’ve even come to visit!”

They make idle chatter as they walk into the apartment, but everything Eddie sees reminds him of Richie somehow.

It’s like this entire town just screams his name.

“This is a really nice place you’ve got,” Eddie mumbles absently, admiring the artwork on the walls. 

“Thanks!” Beverly says warmly. “Ben basically designed the whole thing, I chose the color schemes though.”

“It’s perfect,” Mike says. 

“Oh! Have you guys eaten yet?” Bev asks. “It’s past lunchtime but before dinner, but I can always make a few sandwiches if you want…”

“I’m okay, thank you,” Eddie says politely. 

“I’ll definitely take a sandwich,” Mike says.

“Us too!” Stan calls from the couch.

“Okay,” Bev says, laughing and brushing some fire-red hair out of her eyes. “What kind?” 

“Peanut butter and marshmallow,” Stan replies. 

“That’s a thing?” Mike asks, in awe. 

“Yes. They love it. You’d honestly think there’s a bunch of five year olds in this house instead of twenty-three year olds with how often I make these stupid sandwiches,” Bev says, laughing and shaking her head. 

“Okay, if it has mini marshmallows on it, I take it back. I want a sandwich,” Eddie says.

“Okay, seven sandwiches coming right up!” Bev exclaims, still laughing. 

_Seven._

_Richie._

There’s only six people here, though. 

“Seven?” Eddie asks quietly. 

“Yeah,” Bev says. “Ben has two.” 

“Oh,” Eddie mumbles. “Cool.” He smiles again, but can’t stop thinking about that seven. Lucky number seven, that was them, and always was, until… it wasn’t. But that’s okay. There’s six of them here now, he doesn’t have to think about that missing piece.

But they all feel it.

They’re not complete without their resident trashmouth.

But Eddie doesn’t know if he even _lives_ here still, let alone still acts the way he used to, and goodness, what if he got contacts? What if he doesn’t wear those stupid coke-bottle glasses anymore, and what if he has a girlfriend, what if-

“Eddie, you okay?” Bev asks. 

“Mhm,” he nods.

“You sure?” 

“Yes. Of course,” he replies, smiling so that he’s more convincing. 

She leaves him alone and they eat and laugh, but he feels more like he’s watching through a window then actually living in the moment. 

He wants Richie. 

And that’s stupid, but he does. 

* * *

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” Emilia exclaims, wandering out into the living room.

Richie stirs on the couch, waking abruptly from the light sleep he’d drifted into. “Hi, apricot, what’s up?”

“Hungry,” she says, dragging her blanket behind her. 

“Didn’t you just have breakfast…?”

“No, Daddy. It’s lunchtime.”

“Oh, oh crap, I’m sorry sweetie, why didn’t you wake me up?”

She shrugs. “I wasn’t hungry ‘til now,” she replies simply. 

“Okay, what do you want?” 

“Pop-tart?” she asks tentatively. 

“Em, you already had one for breakfast,” Richie says, wishing she’d just ask for a peanut butter and jelly. 

“Pwease,” she begs with her stupid puppy dog eyes. She got those from him, too! 

“Fine,” he gives in. “But I have to tell you something first.”

“What?” she asks quietly. 

“It’s a secret,” he replies. “Come here, sit next to me.”

“Okay…” she trails off, mildly suspicious. 

“The secret is…. tickles!” he yells excitedly, tickling her ribs, under her armpits, neck, backs of her knees, anywhere he can reach. 

Her laughter is music to his ears. He thinks he’d do anything just to hear it. He’s so lucky to have her. So, so, lucky. 

“Daddy…” she manages through her giggles. “I- I have a secret for you, too,” she says.

He scooches in. “What is it?”

“Tickle!” she exclaims, and tickles him the same way he did her. He laughs and lets her, and then scoops her up and off the couch to go make another poptart. He also cuts up some fruits and vegetables for her to eat alongside it. 

He gives her a glass of water since she had juice with breakfast.

He yawns and grabs a cup of cold coffee from earlier and a Belvita bar from the lower kitchen cabinet. Bev suggested he started eating those to gain weight and just for natural health reasons, and as it turns out he actually enjoys them a lot. He hopes Emilia doesn’t suffer from his lightning fast metabolism. It sucks. 

“Aunty Bev said that you shouldn’t drink so much coffee,” Emilia states matter-of-factly.

“Aunty Bev also said you shouldn’t be eating so many pop tarts,” Richie shoots right back, smiling. 

Emilia shuts up. “Okay. Let’s not tell Aunty Bev.”

“Let’s not.” 

Richie does the dishes while Em finishes breakfast, and then he sets her up with the TV in the other room. 

It’s summer, and even though it’s a Monday, he has time to scroll through his social media a little bit. 

He’s not prepared for what Beverly just posted on her instagram.

He never could’ve been prepared, not in a million years.

It’s all the losers together at her and Bev’s place, but with them is…

 _Eddie._

Richie gasps, bringing a hand up to his mouth. 

The morning after Eddie left was the worst morning of Richie’s life. He woke up with a pounding headache, stars bursting underneath his eyelids, with no idea where he was or even who he was. He woke up in some stranger’s bed, butt naked, with her hand slung across his stomach. He sat up and removed it, touching his hips, heart, chest, everywhere that Eddie had once touched, loved, and kissed him better. He stood and stared at himself in the mirror, wondering how the hell it came to this, but not having the will to reverse it.

“Are you up for round two?” the stranger asked, so he had rough morning sex with who must’ve been Emilia’s mom because this was nine months before that day in May.

He truly believed Eddie gave up on him, so he gave up on himself too.

He went to a club that night and had sex with a woman in the back of a cleaning closet, so she could’ve been Emilia’s mom too…

He doesn’t know. 

He just remembers searching and searching for a way out of feeling, but once he did find that way out, it actually took a while to get to that point of numbness. He had to go through a shit ton of emotions first.

So while he was searching for a way out, he was also, in a way, looking for a way in. A way into his own heart, and a way back into Eddie’s.

But no.

That was never going to happen. 

Eddie’s here now… and they could very well run into each other, after all, it’s a very small town…

He shouldn’t think about that. All it does is hurt him. 

But the hurt is always halfway for it, because there’s always that what if. Eddie could swing by, or Richie could show up at Bev’s.

He wouldn't do that.

That would be a jackass move. After everything they’ve been through? It’s not just gonna be like, “Hey, so guess what? I’m off drugs now and I still lo- like, really like you and I think we should pick up where we left off except without the fighting?”

No. Life doesn’t fucking work like that. 

“Daddy, what are you looking at?” Emilia asks. 

“Nothing, sweetie. What are you watching?”

“Nothing.”

“Touche,” Richie says, laughing. 

“Do you want me to order a pizza for dinner tonight?” 

Emilia nods. “And we can get out the fancy plates?”

“Mhm.”

“And Aunty Bev can come over?”

“Aunt Bev is busy tonight,” Richie says carefully, hoping Emilia won’t be too upset.

“Oh. Okay. Tomorrow then,” Emilia says, mind made up. 

She turns back to the TV.

“Tomorrow,” Richie mumbles to himself. 

_Eddie._

* * *

Eddie stays on the couch with Ben, Bev, and Mike far later than he should if he still wants to run tomorrow morning, but it’s alright.

“Hey, guys, I think I’m going to turn in for the night,” Eddie says, standing from the couch. 

“Okay, goodnight. See you in the morning,” Bev says.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” Mike says, still engrossed in the movie. 

“Goodnight!” Ben says cheerily. 

Eddie walks down the hall to the guest room, opens his suitcase, and pulls out an old band tee and some plaid pajama pants to sleep in. 

Led Zeppelin. 

Richie loved that band. 

_Why can’t I stop thinking of him?_ Eddie asks himself.

Well, it’s not like this day has been particularly worse than any other day in the past five years… That’s a lie. It has. Because this entire town reminds him of Richie and everything they used to do together, and how everything fell apart. 

Maybe tomorrow he’ll stop thinking about him. 

Maybe the five year mark is magical and after that happens, Eddie will be able to move on, get a new boyfriend, and forget about Richie. 

But he doesn’t really want to do that. 

His mind does, but his heart is screaming for him to get Richie’s number from Bev and call him and say he’s back and “Hey, can we talk because even thought you were a complete and utter jackass to me, maybe you’re better now and I really hope you’re better now because I kinda think I’m still in lo- in like with you and if you’re not better by now then I can finally fucking let go?” 

No. 

He plays with the hem of the t-shirt. Richie had a shirt just like it that he let Eddie wear all the time. Maybe that’s why Eddie subconsciously bought this shirt. Part of him wants to take it off, but the other half of him wants to wear this shirt forever.

_Ugh, what is wrong with him?_

_If anything, Richie’s probably moved on by now._

_This is so stupid!_

Eddie lies down and buries his face in a pillow. He remembers apartment hunting with Ben and Bev and Richie. He remembers when they found this place and the first glass of cherry wine they all sipped here. 

Back when Richie could drink and stop. He remembered going back to Richie’s place after and the sweet, sweet making-out-

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and bangs his head against a pillow. 

What kind of psychopath is he? What kind of person thinks about their ex-boyfriend this way after five years?

It’s been five years, Eddie. 

Wake up and grow up, kid. 

Damn. 

* * *

Richie does the dishes long after Emilia has gone to bed. He lies down and turns on the TV in his room, but doesn’t watch it. He stares and stares at the picture on Bev’s instagram, wondering why he can’t just let go. 

Just accept what’s happened has happened and it’s over. 

_You fucked up._

* * *

Eddie sits up and stares out the window, giving up on sleep. 

He misses Richie. 

He always has. 

But how can he miss someone who treated him like absolute shit? How can he miss someone who was addicted to drugs, when drugs were more important then he was, how can he miss that?

But that’s not what he misses. 

No.

He misses the old Richie. 

The one who would take him on long drives and play trashy music, and call him Eddie Spaghetti and make out with him when they went to the clubhouse alone, who’d always partner with him when they played chicken, who’d hold his hand when they’d see scary movies, who’d scoot his sleeping bag closer to Eddie’s when they all slept over at Bill’s. He missed the Richie who he would have to beep, the Richie who had a zest for life and love- he missed the Richie who loved him.

But, sometimes people fall out of love.

Maybe that’s just what happened.

Yeah. People fall out of love. 

And it’s okay. _(No, it's not)_

_It's death by a thousand cuts_

Jeez, it took him five years to figure out that people just fall out of love with no damn explanation! How stupid is he?

Eddie stands and slides on his slippers, opening the ever-creaky door. He remembers laughing over that creak with Richie, Bev, and Ben. They thought it was the funniest thing ever. 

The hallway is silent. Everyone’s gone to bed.

Eddie hops in the car and turns the key in the ignition. He doesn’t know where he’s going, just that he can’t be still right now. 

He finds himself pulling up at Richie’s old house. 

_And now he’s a stalker?_

He bangs his head against the wheel, feeling tears make their way out of his eyes. 

He’s just overtired.

Yep. 

It’s not like he actually feels things. 

No. 

Little does he know, Richie is inside feeling the exact same thing. 

_(it's death by a thousand cuts)_

Eddie wipes his pathetic tears and drives away as slowly as he possibly can.

_What is wrong with him?_

_I take the long way home_

_I ask the traffic lights if it'll be alright_

_They say, "I don't know"_


	2. Ice Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Emilia,” he said, seemingly in a daze.  
> “Huh?” Bev asked, extremely confused.  
> “Emilia. Her name is Emilia. Em for short,” he explained, eyes glossy, but this time, it wasn’t from alcohol abuse.  
> “Oh,” Bev said. “Emilia. I like it.” She smiled, and Richie motioned for her to hand over the baby. Emilia. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> credit to @BiancaBibi  
> for richie calling his daughter food
> 
> i love this chapter so much !  
> the next one focuses more on eddie haha
> 
> uhm leave kudos and comment if you like :) <3

_Four Years Earlier_

Richie woke to a pounding in his skull. He put a pillow over his head and rolled over, and when the pounding continued he got up to find some liquor to cure it. 

He grabbed a bottle of beer and started drinking, though it was pretty early in the morning. He didn’t care. He just needed his head to stop hurting. The pounding in his head eventually let up, but there was still so much _noise_ -

_Oh._

Someone was at the door.

He threw on a baggy black sweatshirt, pinched the bridge of his nose, and opened the door, not yet ready to deal with people.

A petite woman with a bundle stood in front of him, and she quickly passed the bundle to him and then slammed his door and went on her way. She did this so fast that he almost dropped the blankets that were _way_ too heavy to be just blankets. 

Maybe one of his drug dealers sent him the _good_ stuff, and like something extra-

The blanket moved.

“Oh my-” Richie started. Sitting in his arms, was a pink-faced, sleeping, newborn baby. He immediately opened his door back up and started running down the street, calling after the woman. ‘Wait, ma’am I think you must be mistaken, there’s no way-”

“It’s yours,” the woman said curtly, not even turning around. She just kept walking.

Richie stopped. 

_It’s yours._

“Fuck,” he mumbled. That must have been one of the many women he’d slept with over the past couple months, and this… this was his… _their_ baby. “Shit,” he cussed again, not really comprehending any of this yet, and not wanting to. 

He walked back to his house slowly and as quietly as he could, though the baby had slept through everything previously, he supposed there was no reason it would wake up now. He set the baby down in the middle of his bed and then did the only thing he knew how. 

He got very, _very_ drunk. He didn’t stop when he felt pleasantly warm, or when his thinking got slightly fuzzy. No. He only stopped when his stomach hurt from all the beer he’d guzzled and when his vision was blurred with tears of… 

He didn’t even know what emotion this was.

Anger? Sadness? Confusion?

Too much alcohol. 

He held his eighth empty beer bottle in two of his hands and smashed it against the kitchen counter, sobbing, wondering vaguely where his parents were, and wishing he had another case.

The baby started screaming.

“Fuck!” Richie screamed. “Fuck! Uhm…” he trailed off, trying to stop his own tears. He stumbled drunkenly into his bedroom and shushed the baby, but she didn’t seem to want to listen. “Ah…. uhm… sh, it’s okay, baby. Go to sleep. Please? Go to- fuck!” 

He didn’t dare touch the baby, she was swaddled very tightly and he didn’t want to ruin that, but what the hell did she want? Didn’t babies just eat and sleep all day?

What was he supposed to do?

He cried helplessly along with her, and then grabbed his phone off the bedside table and called Bev. 

“Bev, Bev, I need help,” he slurred hurriedly. “I need you to come here, right now. There’s a baby, and it won’t stop screaming, and I think it’s mine, and I don't know what’s going on, and I can’t-” he cut off for air and sucked in a huge gulp. “I can’t _fucking_ breathe, Beverly, it won’t stop _crying_!” 

“Richie. You need to get your shit together,” Bev said harshly over the phone. “I’m coming over there. But only to clean out your liquor cabinet and make sure you’re not hallucinating.”

“No, Beverly, there really is a baby, you’ve gotta believe me, don'tcha hear it crying? How can you not? It’s so loud!” 

“If there really is a baby, then please find out what gender he or she is and address him or her by that because damn it Richie, you’ve been low lately but that’s just dehumanizing. Hang up. I’m on my way,” Bev said, and then she was gone. 

The baby screamed and screamed, and Richie tried to stifle his own cries with his hand. He just felt so _helpless._

He wasn’t even prepared to hold a baby, let alone raise a kid-

There was a knock at the door. 

He stood abruptly and ran into the wall, causing the kid to burst into a new set of tears. 

“Shit,” he mumbled, running to the door. “Beverly,” he breathed when he saw her. 

The first thing he got was a smack to the face. “Richard Tozier, where have you been this time? Damn it, where’s the beer? Where’s the LSD? What the hell are you on right now and where are you hiding it?” Bev nearly screamed. 

“I’m not, I’m not!” Richie yelled back.

“Are you kidding me? I can smell it on your breath!” Beverly exclaimed, nearly laughing at how ridiculous Richie was being. 

“The baby, the baby, Bev, you’ve gotta fucking help me,” 

“Damn it, Richie, don't make me smack you again-”

The baby screamed. 

“Holy shit,” Bev said, face going soft. “You weren’t kidding.”

Richie shook his head, tears streaming down his face. 

“Holy shit,” Beverly repeated, running her fingers through her hair. “Where is she?”

“The bedroom,” Richie slurred. 

Bev disappeared from sight and reappeared a few minutes later, holding the tiny bundle in her arms. “Sh… it’s okay, baby. It’s okay, sweetie. Sh…” She bounced the baby for a while, but he didn’t seem to want to go back to sleep. “Okay, are you hungry?” Beverly asked. “Shit, Richie, you don't happen to have baby formula just lying around, do you?” 

Richie shook his head tiredly. 

“Okay… maybe he needs his diaper changed. You don't have diapers either,” Bev finished her own question. “And there’s no way I’m letting you stay here with her alone, I walk in and you’re both crying. How do I expect a child to take care of a baby?”

“Hey!” Richie slurred, even though part of him knew it was true.

But that part of him was drowning in alcohol right now. 

“Okay, okay, uhm…” Bev mumbled to herself. “Richie go wash your hands,” she instructed. “We have to go to the store and buy some sh-shutff. Stuff.”

Richie stood wobbly, making his way into the kitchen. Bev followed him and then handed him the baby so she could wash her hands. 

They got in Bev’s red car, Richie in the back holding the still screaming baby, and Bev in the driver’s seat driving as fast as she possibly could to the local Target. 

“Can I trust you to sit in the car with the baby and not kill her?” Bev asked. 

Richie shrugged.

“That’s a no. Get out.” 

Beverly grabbed his hand and practically dragged him into the store. She pulled him behind her as she scanned the aisles quickly, finally finding what she was looking for. She grabbed the pack of green binkies off the shelf and ripped it open. She shoved Richie’s finger into the hole, and guided it toward the baby’s mouth. The baby sucked on it happily, finally calming down. 

“Oh goodness,” Bev sighed. “Okay, she’s going to think that’s her mother’s nipple for a while, which gives us time to get formula, diapers, a car seat, and anything else we may need. Oh, and to call Ben to bring us some money.” 

While Bev was calling Ben, Richie enjoyed the sensation of the baby sucking on his finger. It was weird, but also sort of nice. It made him feel connected to it- him or her. 

“Okay. Ben is on his way,” Beverly said. “I’ve also looked up a list of essentials-”

“Ow!” Richie exclaimed. 

“What?” Beverly asked, concerned. “Are you alright?”

“He or she bit me!” Richie said, laughing. He laughed so hard he almost started crying again. Bev started laughing too.

“Okay, okay, settle down, the people here are going to think you’re crazy. The first thing on our list is clothes. Oh my goodness, I’m so excited. Wait, we should probably find out what gender he is before we start that… here, let me take her to the bathroom,” Bev said, holding out her arms. Richie took the binky out of the baby’s mouth and handed her over to Bev. The baby immediately started fussing. “Here, give me the binky, too,” Bev said. Richie compiled and waited outside the bathroom for what felt like quite a while. 

Bev walked out. “It’s a girl.”

Richie took a moment to let that sink in.

“She’s a girl. Richie, you have a daughter.” Bev smiled so wide that Richie couldn’t help but follow, all tears from earlier forgotten. He figured he was so drunk he wasn’t thinking straight, but he was… happy…? Is that what this was? 

“She’s going to be the best dressed baby there ever was, and I’m going to make sure of it,” Bev said determinedly. Richie knew it would be true. When Bev put her mind to something, it always happened.

He let Bev pick out all of her clothes, except for a pair of footie pajamas with ducks on them. They were just too cute to pass up. They bought a new swaddler, throwing the one her mom dropped her off into a nearby trash can. 

This baby was Richie’s now. Her mom gave up that chance. 

Richie and Bev walked through the baby aisles of the store, purchasing bottles, bibs, formula, baby shampoo and body wash, a baby bath, a few packages of diapers, baby wipes, diaper cream, a car seat, and a few baby blankets. 

Ben showed up just as they were getting ready to check out. 

“What’s going on- holy shit,” he said as soon as he saw the sleeping baby in Richie’s arms.

“Mhm,” Richie nodded, eyes slightly less glossy than earlier, but glossy nonetheless.

“Is he…?”

“Mildly, yes,” Bev replied. “I’d say you should hold her, but she actually seems most comfortable with Richie at the moment. You brought enough money?”

“I sure hope so,” Ben said honestly.

They checked out, and Ben did bring enough money. 

“You realize I’m probably going to have to stay with him for a while, right?” Bev asked Ben.

“Yeah, totally. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid that could jeapordize the baby.”

Bev nodded and watched as Ben set up the carseat in the back of her car. 

Richie leaned his head against the window, yawning. All that alcohol was starting to catch up with him, make him drowsy… but. But? But there was a child in his arms, and if he fell asleep, he would surely drop her, and he’d never forgive himself. 

Bev gingerly took the baby and set her in the car seat. Richie’s arm followed, his finger still in the binky that was in her mouth. 

Ben smiled. “Y’know, this might be good for him.”

“You think?” Bev asked. 

Ben nodded. 

“Let's just hope it’s good for the baby, too,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. You should definitely come over.”

“Yeah. Okay. See you.”

“And thanks so much for everything,” she said, hugging him. She pecked him on the cheek.

“Oh, of course,” he replied, blushing. Even though they’d been going steady for a year and a half now, he still blushed whenever she showed him any sign of affection. He guessed it was just part of being him. 

Bev started the car and began to drive home, looking back through the rearview mirror to check on Richie and his daughter. He had fallen asleep against the window, his finger still in the binky, and she definitely thought they looked sweet.

She hoped Ben was right. This could definitely be good for him. This could definitely turn his life around. 

Or it could do the exact opposite, and ruin this poor, precious child’s new life, but-

She wouldn't think about that. 

She pulled up at Richie’s house and unloaded the car, not bothering to wake him up just yet. Though she did want him to sleep tonight-

Damn, she was treating him like she was treating his baby. 

_He certainly acted like a baby this morning_ , she thought. _He’s only 18. He was drunk, and he didn’t know what was going on. He’ll be better now._

Beverly walked into his kitchen, which absolutely reeked of alcohol. She immediately got to work on cleaning it. She threw away the empty beer cans from this morning, and any other alcoholic beverages he happened to have lying around were poured down the sink. She searched the entire house for drugs and got rid of most of them.

She knew a clean break was going to be extremely difficult. More difficult than anything he’s ever done before. She knew the baby was going to be waking both of them up at 3 am tonight and she would make him stay awake with them and show him how to feed her. 

She knew this week was going to be hell. 

She flushed all of his drugs down the toilet anyway. She glanced at her watch. It was around 4 o’clock. She supposed Richie could stand to wake up now. 

She walked outside and into her car and apparently got there just in time to witness Richie throwing open the door and then blowing chunks all over the sidewalk. 

“Oh, Richie,” she said softly, feeling sorry for him. 

Granted, he’d been acting like a real jackass lately, but he was clearly hurting. 

He hiccuped and she got scared he was gonna choke on his own vomit for a minute, but he just inhaled and then sat back. 

“Is the baby still asleep?” Beverly asked gingerly. 

Richie shook his head. “I think we should… I think she’s hungry,” he offered. Wow. He was paying attention to her needs. 

“Okay. Let’s go make her some formula.”

Beverly helped Richie out of the car, making sure he didn’t step in any puke, and then let him go inside. She unbuckled the baby’s carseat and picked it up, realizing one very important thing. 

They forgot to buy a crib.

The baby couldn’t sleep in her car seat, well, maybe for one night, and Richie was such a restless sleeper (Beverly knew, she’d been kicked one too many times at sleepovers) he’d be sure to push the poor child off the bed… 

Oh well. She guessed they’d cross that bridge when they came to it. 

“Richie…?” Beverly called, walking through the front door. 

The baby had started fussing. 

“Did you already start on the formula?” 

Richie walked through the kitchen door, nodding slowly. “Emilia,” he said, seemingly in a daze.

“Huh?” Bev asked, extremely confused.

“Emilia. Her name is Emilia. Em for short,” he explained, eyes glossy, but this time, it wasn’t from alcohol abuse. 

“Oh,” Bev said. “Emilia. I like it.” She smiled, and Richie motioned for her to hand over the baby. Emilia. 

He brought the bottle to her lips and she started sucking immediately, making quiet, contented cooing noises. 

“Is it warm enough?” Bev asked. 

Richie let her feel it, and it was, indeed, warm enough. She vaguely wondered how he’d managed to read the directions on the package because even though the alcohol was surely out of his system by now, he must have had one helluva headache. 

Emilia fell asleep soon after she finished her bottle. 

“Damn,” Richie commented. “Babies sleep a lot.”

“Yeah,” Bev replied. “They do. And holy shit, Richie. She’s got a lot of hair. I’m thinking we should’ve picked up a hair brush too.”

Richie laughed and took some of it between his fingers. “I wonder where she gets it from.”

Bev shrugged and ruffled his huge mess of curls. “The world may never know.” Bev took the bottle from his hands and brought it into the kitchen, which was nearly spotless by now. “Do you want to order pizza tonight? Oh, and also, wanna help me finish cleaning the house?” Bev asked, which was code for: _We’re ordering pizza and you’re helping me clean the entire house and if we’re not finished before midnight I don't give a shit._

“Yeah,” Richie replied, even though he didn’t have a choice. 

He set Emilia down in her car seat and got to work. 

They’d just finished cleaning both bathrooms when Emilia started crying.

“What do you think she wants now?” Richie asked. 

“She probably needs to be changed,” Bev replied honestly. “Do you need me to help you?”

“Nah, I should be fine.”

Bev shrugged and moved on to start cleaning the guest room. She was saving Richie’s room for last so they could clean it together. 

“WHAT THE HELL? WHY IS IT GREEN?” Richie nearly screeched.

Bev snorted and nearly fell over laughing as she ran down the stairs. 

“You said you didn’t need my help,” she breathed. 

He closes his eyes and steps away. “Well I do. Goodbye.’

“No, no, no. Richie, get your ass back over here.” 

“Beverly,” he whined. 

“Richard.” He listened and watched as she showed him how to change Emilia’s diaper. “Now, look forward to doing that all on your own at 3 am.” 

He looked horrified. “I’m going to need a drink,” he mumbled.

“Calm down, I was just joking,” Bev said, walking back upstairs and choosing to ignore that last comment and not tell him she’d poured all his liquor down the drain. 

“About the alone part or the 3 am part?” he called after her. 

She just laughed. 

* * *

It was 10 o’clock by the time they’d finished cleaning the whole house, and Richie was exhausted and in dire need of a drink or a smoke. 

“Bev, did you order that pizza?” he asked, trying to remember where he put his whiskey. 

“Yes,” she said. 

He couldn’t find it anywhere. He was about to ask Bev when he realized-

She must’ve took it, or hid it, or-

_Poured it down the drain._

“Beverly Marsh did you touch my fucking alcohol?” he asked loudly, getting scarily angry.

She looked him straight in the eye and stood her ground. “Yeah. Yeah I did. Because I can’t have you raising this poor little girl, drunk off your ass,” she said calmly. 

“Beverly! You’ve gotta be kidding me! That shit was expensive, and I’m exhausted, and I’m not going to be able to fucking sleep tonight. No. No. Tell me you’re kidding. Tell me you didn’t pour all the alcohol in this house down the drain.” 

Beverly didn’t say anything. 

“Shit! And the drugs?” 

She stayed silent. 

“YOU THREW THEM AWAY?” he yelled. 

She nodded. “Of course I did, Richie, gosh, you’re raising a fucking child!” 

“How am I supposed to raise her when I can’t even think!” 

“Richie you’re not even making any sense right now! Drugs don't help you think!” Beverly argued.

“Yes they do!” Richie yelled, sounding like a complete idiot. “I NEEDED THOSE!” he screamed after a while. 

Emilia started crying. 

“Oh,” Richie muttered, face going soft. “Oh, no. Shit. She- oh…” he ran into the other room, and Bev could hear him softly shushing his daughter until she fell silent once again. When he didn’t return, she walked into the newly spotless living room to find him with his finger in that green binky and Emilia sucking happily on it. 

Richie looked up at Bev sadly. “Please tell me you’ve at least got a pack of Marlboros.” 

Bev reached into her pocket and threw it at him. He caught it with one hand. 

“Thank you.”

She nodded, and just then, the doorbell rang. 

They ate their pizza in relative silence, and she watched Richie go outside for a smoke after dinner. She’d kicked that habit a while ago, but… clean breaks were impossibly hard. 

She needed to be here for Richie. 

She needed to be understanding and firm, not unkind and cold. 

This week was going to be rough, but they could do this. 

“We can do it, right Emilia?” The girl looked at Bev with impossibly big, brown eyes. Bev wondered if she’d ever need glasses.

Richie walked back inside. 

“Go shower,” Bev ordered, not unkindly. “You reek of cigarettes.”

He rolled his eyes, smiled, and compiled. The cigarette definitely helped with his mood. She hoped one day, he wouldn't need it. 

It was then that Bev realized it was 12 am, and Emilia was still awake. 

Richie walked downstairs fifteen minutes later, to which Bev said, “Did you know that newborn babies sleep for up to 17 hours in a 24 hour day?” 

“No I did not,” Richie replied tiredly. “I think I’d like to do that.”

Bev laughed. “Well, Emilia has already been napping for most of the day, so I’m a little worried, but if she acts like you as much as she looks like you, then we should be fine-” 

“Oh, shut up,” Richie muttered playfully. “Let me take her.”

“Richie, she can’t sleep in your bed.” 

“Why not?” Richie asked, genuinely confused. 

“Are you kidding me? You’ll push the poor child off the bed.”

“No I won’t,” Richie argued.

Bev stared. “Do you know how many times I got kicked last time we slept over at Bill’s? Like, 13 times. Yes, I counted!” 

“But that was like a year ago! Come on, please. I promise I won’t murder my kid.”

_Could've fooled me, with how I walked in on you two this morning-_

“Okay, but I’m checking on you every hour.” 

“Creepy,” Richie said. 

Bev resisted the urge to throw a pillow at him and set herself up on the couch. She set an alarm on her phone for every hour, wrapped a blanket around herself, and promptly fell asleep. 

The first hour, Bev walked in and Richie wasn’t even asleep. All of the lights were off except one near his bed, and he was on his phone. Emilia was right next to him, in the middle of the bed, nowhere near falling or being pushed off. 

The second hour, Bev walked in and all the lights were off. 

“‘m awake,” Richie mumbled. He sounded exhausted. He sat up. “I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight without drugs.”

“I’m sorry, Richie,” Bev said. 

“Me too,” he muttered lowly. 

“Is she still asleep?” 

“‘s far as I know,” Richie replied. 

“Do you want me to ask Ben to bring you some tea or something?” 

“Unless the tea is laced and the ‘or something’ is heroin, I think I’m good,” Richie joked darkly, palms sweaty and hands shaking. 

“Heroin?” Bev asked, appalled.

Richie didn’t respond.

The next hour Bev’s alarm didn’t wake her up, Em’s crying did. 

“Time for the first feeding,” Beverly said, excited and tired, but mostly excited. “Will you go make a bottle?”

Richie nodded and left. Bev tried her best to comfort Emilia even though she didn’t have food. Richie came back and fed Emilia, and Bev watched him. 

“You can turn off your alarms, Bev,” Richie said. “I don't think I’m going to bed.”

“Okay,” Bev said, trusting him, but warily. 

The next morning, she woke up at around 10 am, which was way later than she thought she’d wake up. She walked into Richie’s room and saw him, fast asleep and cradling a surprisingly awake Emilia to his chest, an empty bottle on the floor where his other hand was falling off the bed. 

She took a picture and sent it to Ben. 

_I think we’re doing okay. You can come over now. Oh, and can you pick up some breakfast? Thanks. <3 _

_On my way,_ Ben shot back.

Bev smiled and picked Emilia up, wondering when Richie had fed her that last bottle. With the absence of Emilia, Richie brought his hand up from the floor and rolled over into starfish position, taking up the entire bed. 

“And there’s the Tozier I know,” Bev said quietly to herself, smiling and closing the door to let Richie sleep a little longer. 

Bev turned on the TV and watched the news for a while, until Ben rang the doorbell. 

“Ben!” she exclaimed, answering it. “What if the baby was asleep?” 

Richie came stumbling down the stairs, sweating, with bags under his eyes and hair a curly mess.

“Seems like he was,” Ben said snarkily. 

Bev smacked him on the arm.

“Sorry. And jeez, that child has a lot of hair!” 

“That’s what I said!” 

“Can we stop discussing her hair, please?” Richie asked tiredly, taking Emilia from Bev. “Ow, shit… everything hurts. Ooh, food, you brought food! Nevermind, you can have her back.” He handed Emilia to Ben in exchange for the McDonald's bag Ben was holding. 

“Save some for me!” Bev called. 

Richie didn’t respond, but walked slowly to the kitchen, dragging his feet.

He still wasn’t completely back to normal. 

He was still craving a can of beer, a snort of coke, a shot of heroin. 

Bev followed him into the kitchen and they ate together, all three of them. Richie informed them that he’d fed Em at around 7, so she should be due to eat again. 

Ben requested to feed her and did a wonderful job. 

Bev thought she might’ve caught baby fever if she hadn’t been awake for half the night previously. 

They finished up breakfast and then Beverly pulled up an article on her phone she was reading late last night. It’s about normal first-week development for babies, and that’s when she realized, they don't really know how old Emilia is, or if she’s even registered as a person. 

After Ben left, Bev brought this up to Richie.

“I think we need to talk,” she said. 

“About?” he asked. 

“Emilia.”

“What about her?” 

“A lot of things,” Bev said. “For starters, how old do you think she is?”

“I dunno,” Richie said. “A few weeks, maybe?”

“Well, she doesn’t have her umbilical cord, so yeah. Probably around two weeks old. And she’s been eating, sleeping, and breathing pretty regularly-”

“Woah, woah, woah. Why wouldn't she be breathing regularly?”

“Newborn babies are used to inhaling fluid while in the womb, and their lungs work differently in the real world. Okay, this is going to sound like a really weird question, but when were you sleeping around? Like when did you have sex with her mom?’

“Woah, Bev, there’s children present,” Richie joked, but his hands were shaking. “I- I don't remember. September, maybe? If she’s a few weeks old that means she was born in late May, and nine months before that is-”

“August,” Beverly said, finishing his sentence. “Or really early September. So yeah. What’s two weeks before today?” 

“May 22nd.”

“Sweet. That’s got to be her birthday. Now here’s the more important question: Is she registered as a person? There’s no way she was born in a hospital, her mom must be a hooker of some sort and used to having babies and dropping them off at men’s houses if she could just leave her _fucking_ kid-”

“Yeah, why don't we talk about that, instead? What a bitch.”

“Anyway, how do we…? How do we register her as a person?” 

They ended up calling Mike and asking him about it, since he was in med school for this exact thing. They made up a hypothetical situation, not wanting to tell him yet, and Richie had to leave to smoke, and for some other reason that Bev pretended not to know. 

_Eddie._

Mike explained the whole process and they did some more research on Richie’s laptop, calling people, taking brief breaks to feed Emilia, and then finally printing out her birth certificate and filling it out. 

“Wow,” Richie said, hands shaking. “I need another smoke.” 

Bev sighed and was grateful that at least his cigarettes weren’t filled with heroin or weed. 

At least, that she knew of.

 _Fuck._ She needed to check. 

No. She needed to trust him. 

She warred with herself for a minute and decided to just trust him. 

For now, at least. 

The rest of that first week was hard, but they got through it. All the losers eventually pitched in some money to get Emilia a crib, which Ben helped Richie put together. 

_He was smoking a lot more than he usually did,_ Bev noticed, but didn’t comment. 

Emilia’s first month was celebrated by getting her registered at a doctor’s office and Richie calling Bev and exclaiming that “She smiled at me! She smiled, you gotta get over here, Bev! She’s laughing at my jokes, I swear!”

The second month Bev got calls of “Bev, she hasn’t pooped in two days what the hell do I do?” and “She’s sleeping less, is that a bad thing?” 

Bev soothed him and occasionally came over to soothe Emilia and let Richie sleep. 

She wondered how he got off drugs so quickly, though occasionally she caught his hands shaking, or saw him sweating when it wasn’t that hot out, but she brushed it off and trusted him. 

Until she got a call at 3 in the morning in early August. 

“Beverly, it’s been a year and two months,” Richie cried into the phone. 

“What?” she asked. 

“He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone… and I’m dying, Beverly, I’m _dying_ -”

She threw on her slippers and got in her car, and started speeding down the road to his house.

“Richie, what the hell is going on?” she asked, throwing the door open. She finds him sitting by the staircase with a bottle of beer in his hands, tears streaming down his face.

“Where the hell did you get that?” she screamed, pulling it out of his hands. 

“None of your business,” he slurred.

“I thought you were better!” 

“What the hell? People don't just get ‘better’ Beverly! Maybe in your perfect little world where Emilia is the best thing that’s ever happened to us and blah, blah, blah, no. I got this from that guy… Joe who hangs out in that one alley and sells me heroin-”

“Don't you mean sold?” Beverly asked brokenly, tears filling her eyes.

“Nah. Check it out, bitch,” Richie slurred, holding up a packet of disgusting, dirty, white powder. 

“What the hell did you just call me?” Bev asked, hurt. 

“Nothing,” he mumbled. 

She snatched the white packet out of his hand and ran to the bathroom with it. “No!” she screamed. “No! I’m not letting you do this to yourself! I thought you were getting better! I mean, I knew you weren’t all the way there, but I thought you were getting there and I thought Em was helping!” 

“Em keeps me up all fucking night! I haven’t slept in three days! I need that heroin! Give it back to me, Beverly!” 

“NO!” She poured it into the sink as he tripped over himself to get to her. 

“GIVE IT BACK! Give it back, give it back, give it back…” he sunk to the floor, sobbing and punching her. She held his arms in a firm grip and when he stopped struggling, hugged him tight. 

“It’s alright, Richie. I know it’s hard. It’s okay. You’re going to get through this.”

“He’s gone… he’s gone…” Richie kept repeating to himself, crying into her shirt. 

“I know,” she said, petting his hair and raking her fingers through it. Eventually his breaths evened out, and she knew she had to get them off the floor before he fell asleep here. He always got tired and sad drunk. Drinking didn’t really work to get rid of his feelings. If anything, it made them stronger. He just didn’t remember anything, so she guessed that was the appeal for him. 

“Richie, help me. We’re going to move to the couch okay, and then you’re going to talk to me.”

He didn’t remember anything, and he also usually opened up to her. Richie was impossible to shut up, but normally everything he said was bullshit. Not when he was drunk. 

“Beverly…” he whimpered.

“It’s okay. I just want you to tell me what happened tonight, and what drugs you’ve been taking these past three months.” 

“Maraijuana.” 

“And…?”

“Sometimes I had a beer or two, but I didn’t have access to any more than that. I got maraijuana from Joe and that was all I smoked. I couldn’t get doped up like usual ‘cuz I didn’t wanna hurt Em, y’know? So… maraijuana just helped me feel lighter and happier, and being drunk, even mildly so, helped me forget shit.”

“Forget what?” Bev asked, even though she knew. 

“Eddie,” Richie managed, breaking into a fresh round of sobs. “I miss him, Bev. I miss him so fucking much. It’s my fault, it’s my fault, it’s all my fault, I was such an idiot. The drugs made me bad, Bev, the drugs did it, not me. Alcohol is fine but LSD and heroin make you _mean_ , Bev, you gotta believe me, you gotta-” 

“Sh… it’s okay, Richie, it’s okay, we’re gonna get through this,” she said, holding him and whispering the same three phrases into his hair over and over. Bev was kicking herself inside. How did she not notice? Now it was obvious. He _reeked_ of maraijuana and sometimes stared off into space for a little too long or smiled at nothing, but she just.. she brushed it off, thought it was a new brand of sweet cigarettes and the smiles were just Richie being Richie. 

His breathing got slow, deep, and even, and she figured she could let him sleep now that they’d talked. 

She was going to give this Joe guy a piece of her mind, and then she was going to take care of Richie. She was going to get him off of these drugs, and fast. 

Emilia started crying, reminding her of the one thing she had yet to find a solution for. 

Where the hell was Em gonna stay while Richie was getting better?

Bev stood up, leaving Richie on the couch, and fixed a quick bottle for Em. She fed her, but Emilia didn’t want to go back to sleep. 

“Okay, I guess you can come downstairs,” Bev said. Em cooed, reaching up with both hands, which Bev took to mean ‘up.’ Gosh, this kid was so cute, and looking more and more like Richie every day. “Your daddy has made a couple big oopsies,” Bev explained, when Em looked at Richie on the couch and reached out. “He can’t hold you right now, sweetie. Hang on.” She set Emilia in her carseat and moved Richie so he was laying on his side, with a pillow behind him so he wouldn't roll onto his back. “Wouldn't want him to choke on his own vomit, now would we?” Bev asked the 3 month old. Emilia cooed. “No,” Bev said. “Oh, man. What are we going to do with your daddy? And more importantly, where are you going to go?”

Bev eventually decided to have Emilia stay at Stan and Bill’s place. She wished she could stay as well, but she had to be with Richie at all times, and Richie couldn’t live with Emilia right now, so this was going to be very difficult. She planned to visit every day though, to give Richie that time so he wouldn't miss any milestones, and because this next month is sure to be absolute hell for both of them.

She was right. 

The first week, he barely ate or slept, and snapped at Bev when she so much as breathed too loud, which was understandable, because he was denying his body two of the main things it needed to function and smoking to cover it up. He smoked way too many Marlboros, (which she was still reconsidering letting him have) and even then it wasn’t enough because it wasn’t _weed._

The second week he threw up a lot, and she didn’t know if that was from the heroin (if that was even still in his system) or from the weed, but she knew he was hurting, physically and mentally, so she tried her best to help him without the use of drugs. She made tea and gave him a hot water bottle for the stomach cramps, and was there for him when he cried. 

The third week, his sleep improved greatly, though he still woke up in cold sweats from time to time, and he started smoking less than 3 cigs a day, which was a win in her book because last week, he’d gone through a pack in two days, and she could hear him coughing at night, and the toll it was taking on his body. He was able to focus on things easier, and he even completed a few pages out of the adult coloring book he’d gotten for his birthday in March. 

His visits to Emilia were the highlight of his days throughout the entire month, but the fourth week especially. He couldn’t wait to see her, get her home, and focus on her, only her.

She was quite honestly the reason he was alive. He doesn’t know how much heroin he would’ve taken that day in June if she hadn’t shown up at his doorstep. It could’ve very well been enough to kill him. 

“Hi, apricot,” Richie said. Emilia giggled and lifted her head from where she was lying. It was tummy time, and this was a thing Bev had installed a while ago but only started insisting happen throughout this last month. 

“For the millionth time, Richie, your daughter is not food,” Stan said dryly. 

Bill snickered.

“Don't encourage him.”

“She likes it when I call her food, don't you my little elderberry?” 

“You are so weird,” Stan said. 

Emilia laughed, and reached her arm out. It looked like she was trying to move left. Was she going to do it…? She-

“Bev! Bev! Bev, come here she just rolled over!”

Bev came rushing in. “What?”

“Yeah, yeah, see? She was on her stomach, and now she’s on her back and look at that! Look at my little girl, oh my gosh she’s growing up so fast!” 

Bev laughed and took a photo, comparing it to one she took a month ago, of Richie and Emilia before he went through rehab with Bev. 

“See? Look how much healthier you look. And happier. She looks happier too,” Bev pointed out. 

Richie grinned. 

The fifth month of Emilia’s life was… difficult, to say the least.

One word: _teething._

Let’s just say neither Richie nor Emilia got much sleep, and Bev stayed the night a couple times to help out.

They also started introducing solid foods. Em, of course, liked cereal the best- “Because what’s better than carbs and baby formula?” Richie asked, thinking he was hilarious. Em laughed. She always did, even though she didn’t understand any of what Richie was saying. -but Bev insisted upon introducing more fruits and vegetables into her diet. She took a liking to carrots and corn, which led to more weird food-related nicknames, and of course tomatoes. Emilia practically lived off tomatoes. 

Beverly was extremely confused when at 7 am on November 22nd, she got a call from Richie. 

“Bev,” he breathed. “I just slept through the night.”

She grinned. “Don't expect it to happen again.”

It didn’t. Not for a while, at least, but he usually snuck in naps when Emilia went down anyway, so it was alright. 

Emilia’s half birthday meant more toys, games, and fun, since she didn’t have a baby shower to receive all these things. 

In early December, Bev received another call.

“She’s fucking crawling. What the hell am I supposed to do now?” 

Bev laughed and got in her car to drive to Richie’s house, which smelled less like cigarettes and alcohol now and more like… home. 

“Beverly, she’s finally gotten her first teeth. I’m gonna need a tiny toothbrush.”

“She really likes apricots, I’m gonna call her that food more than the others. Hear that Stan?”

“She likes Sarah McLachlan. She won’t let me stop singing ‘Ice Cream.’”

“Bev, I slept through the night again. Eleven whole hours!”

“She won’t let go of that green blanket you and Ben got her, is that bad?”

“She’s feeding herself. Goodness, Bev, she doesn’t need me anymore.”

Bev showed up at Richie’s house early Saturday morning and Richie opened it immediately.

“Okay, so she obviously likes apricots, I don't understand why she keeps throwing her spoon on the floor. Look, look at this,” Richie said, handing Em a spoon. The 8 month old gleefully threw it on the ground, only for it to be returned to her once again. She giggled. “It’s like she likes watching me pick it up or something.”

“She’s working on cause and effect and reasoning skills Richie. Her brain realizes: when I throw this, Daddy picks it up.” 

“Oh,” Richie said. “Okay.” 

Richie woke up one morning to Em babbling to herself in her crib. “Dadadada…” she said. She pointed at him. “Dadadadady…” she babbled.

“Daddy?” he asked, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Dada,” Em repeated.

He picked her up and hugged her tight.

“Beverly? Bev, I think you need to come over. Jeez, Bev, I think she’s gonna start walking.”

“Really? Richie, I’ll be right there,” Beverly said excitedly, running out the door and bringing Ben with her. 

“Dada,” Em babbled to herself as she pulled herself up on the couch. “Dadadada…” Richie sat down across the room from her, hoping she’d come to him. 

“C’mere, Em, Daddy’s right here.”

“Dadadady,” she chattered, letting go of the couch.

She didn’t fall back.

“Yeah, that’s it, Em, you got this! C’mere elderberry, you got this!” 

She took a step forward, and her face lit up as she figured out she could hold her own weight. 

Bev burst through the door as Emilia took another step forward.

Richie burst into tears. 

“Oh my goodness,” Bev breathed, pulling out her phone. 

Richie quickly wiped his eyes, but the evidence was 110% there. 

“C’mere, Em,” he continued coaxing. 

Emilia took another few steps forward, and then tumbled into his arms, giggling. 

“Oh, Bev, did you see that, she just- I just- oh-”

Bev nodded and then rushed over to hug Richie. 

Emilia’s first birthday party was a banger, to say the least. Beverly was the last one to leave, and she actually didn’t leave until the morning after. She’d stayed the night after helping Richie clean everything up and put away all of Em’s gifts.

And she’s glad she did because if she hadn’t, she wouldn't have witnessed the precious scene that she now has on her phone forever. 

_Your love_

_Is better than ice cream_

_Better than anything else that I've tried_

_And your love_

_Is better than ice cream_

_Everyone here knows how to fight_

Richie sang along softly to the recording of Sarah McLachlan, looking as if he was about to fall asleep. Emilia smiled up at him sweetly and grabbed his index finger and middle finger with her tiny hand. 

_And it's a long way down_

_It's a long way down_

_It's a long way_

_Down to the place where we started from_

He closed his eyes but didn’t stop singing, because Emilia was laughing now and believe him when he said it was the most beautiful sound in the entire world. He’d sing this song for the rest of his life just to hear her laugh. 

_Your love_

_Is better than chocolate_

_Better than anything else that I've tried_

_Oh, love is better than chocolate_

_Everyone here knows how to cry_

Emilia yawned and stuck her thumb in her mouth, looking at her dad with a look in her brown eyes that can only be described as adoration. Her eyes fluttered closed, but she wasn’t asleep, just soaking up the song. 

_It's a long way down_

_It's a long way down_

_It's a long way_

_Down to the place where we started from_

Richie was mumbling lowly now, breath getting heavier with every word. 

And Bev had it all on film. She knew that song meant a lot to Richie, he’d listened to Fumbling Toward Ecstacy even before Emilia was born, but it had to mean a lot more to him now, what with being a few months clean and in a sense, back where he started. And although it might have seemed weird to some that Richie’s nicknames for Em were mostly different foods, she knew now that some of that might stem from this song. She caught a few more nicknames the next morning: ‘cocoa butter’ and ‘cookie dough.’ She just laughed and rolled with it, deciding not to show the video to Richie until later. 

The next few months of Emilia’s life were relatively uneventful, but Richie enjoyed and soaked up every single minute of every day he had with her. He loved her so much. 

He sang to her, played with her, read with her, watched TV with her, did everything he could to make her happy. Her favorite DVDs were these sign language tapes, and that’s what they used to communicate. 

“Signing time with Alex and Leah,” he sang quietly to himself. 

_Daddy,_ Emilia signed _. Food?_

“Sure, sweetie,” Richie said. 

Bill yelled at him a lot for these tapes, saying “Now, she’s n-ne-never going to talk.” To which Stan replied, “She’s Richie’s kid, Bill. In a few months, you’re not going to be able to shut her up.”

That turned out to be true.

Once you got Emilia going on something, she didn’t stop talking until she was done. Something Richie really admired about her.

One thing he didn’t admire so much was how early she’d stopped taking naps. 

Sometime after her second birthday, he’d been falling asleep on the couch because it was her naptime, and when she took naps he usually went down hard too, that was just how it worked. Except this time, she didn’t fall asleep. He woke up to her poking him in the cheek and signing for her bobo and uhm… 

That was the end of naptime.

Oh, yeah. Bobo was short for binky, that’s just what Em called it so they all started calling it that. Richie thought it was cute.

He bitched to Bev about the end of naptime once or twice, but didn’t really mind. After all, that just meant more time for him to spend with Emilia. 

And the past two years have quite honestly gone by in a blur. 

Her first cold was very hard for Richie. Partly because he hated seeing her in pain and partly because sick reminded him of Eddie and he knew how much Eddie would love Em and how he would know the right medicine to give her and he could make her tea and breakfast in bed, but-

But he blew that chance. He was an idiot and he blew his chance to have that with Eddie. 

This was another week that Bev stayed the night. A fact Richie was eternally grateful for. 

Luckily, Em bounced back from her cold fast and hasn’t gotten very sick since. 

For her third birthday, Stan demanded Emilia get a haircut because “Richie, it looks like a mane! The kids are going to make fun of her at preschool!” 

Richie and Bev protected her hair at all costs, but then Stan threatened to come over and cut it while Richie and Em were asleep, and Richie didn’t doubt he’d actually do that so… he let Bev cut Emilia’s hair.

Just a trim though! Her curls were still big and plentiful, and not to mention gorgeous. 

He loved her so much. 

Still does. 

Which is why looking at Bev’s instagram hurts him so much. Well, one he still lo- likes Eddie. A lot. And two, liking Eddie and pining after him reminds him of that time in his life. That one year and two month anniversary. The drugs, the tears, the cold sweats… things he doesn’t associate with his life now and never wants his daughter to know about or deal with. 

He palms his eyes to force the tears back inside their sockets. He watches the clock strike midnight. It’s June 2nd now. 

It’s no longer that anniversary.

He can relax.

That’s just what his brain wants to think. His heart knows better. 

He closes his eyes, and cries himself quietly to sleep. 


	3. You've Got to Hide Your Love Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> college is fun when you miss home.  
> well, eddie doesn't miss home.  
> he misses the person who feels like home.  
> he can't say his name, and he'll do anything to stop missing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, ik you've got to hide your love away is originally by the beatles  
> but i like eddie vedder's version better :)  
> uhm... (im sorry for all the angst but)  
> leave kudos and comment if you like !  
> <3

_Four Years Earlier_

“Eddie. Eddie? Eddie, man, are you okay?”

“Mm, mhm,” Eddie replied absently, not looking up from his math homework. 

“Really? ‘cause I’ve been calling your name for like, five minutes now,” Mike persisted. 

“I’m fine,” Eddie said, finally looking up from the distracting algebra. It was distracting in a good way, though. Because then all he thought about was numbers. Not college parties that he should have been attending, phone calls home he should have been making, TV shows he should have been watching, relationships he should have been having…

There he goes again, thinking about it. Thinking about _him_. 

“Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to go to this party tonight-”

“No,” Eddie said immediately. 

Mike was quiet. “Please?” he asked softly. I get it, I’m usually not the type for parties either, but…” 

“But Julie, that cute girl in your Biology class invited you, right? So now you have to go? And you need to bring me so it’s not awkward? And you’re hoping I’ll hook up with some cute guy just to get myself out of the house? No thank you.”

“No, it’s not, no-” Mike stammered, cheeks going red at the mention of Julie, _and_ the fact that Eddie had him all figured out. 

“I rest my case,” Eddie said smugly, turning back to his math homework.

“Okay fine. You’re right. And, I’m sure if Julie really likes me she’ll invite me to another one, probably. Maybe she’d even invite me somewhere on her own… no the boys are supposed to do that…” Mike rambled. “Do you wanna have a movie night?”

Eddie thought for a moment. They hadn’t had a movie night in a while, because every damn movie he watched reminded him of-

He couldn’t say the name. 

He just _couldn’t._

“I get it if you don't want to, really,” Mike said, seeing the look in Eddie’s eyes and understanding immediately. He waited a minute, and then asked tentatively, “Is that why you don't want to go to the party?”

Eddie hid his face in his hands on reflex, knowing the emotions he’d been bottling up for almost a year were desperately trying to make themselves known. He shook his head. 

“That’s okay if it’s why. And it’s okay if you don't wanna watch a movie either, I can always just watch it on my own, no pressure, okay?” 

Eddie looked up from underneath his fingers, to see Mike smiling softly at him.

“You’re too nice to me,” he said quietly.

“No, I’m not,” Mike said, chuckling. “So is that a no or a yes…? Again, no pressure. Completely zero pressure.”

“Uhm…” Eddie said, thinking that the tears were gone, at least for now. “Sure. I think… I think that’d be cool.” 

“Great. I’ll go make popcorn.” Mike smiled, genuinely happy that Eddie was choosing to spend time with him instead of cooped up in his room doing homework, like always. 

They watched Back to the Future, and Eddie was struggling not to cry throughout the entire movie. 

When it ended, Eddie gasped loudly, and then broke down sobbing.

Out of like, nowhere. 

Well, he knew where all this shit came from, but Mike didn’t, and he was super confused, shocked, and worried.

“Oh! Eddie, what’s wrong?” Mike asked immediately, letting his concern show through his voice but not rushing over to him, because he knew how much Eddie hated to be crowded. 

“Nothing,” Eddie said, wiping his eyes. “I’m just tired.”

Mike knew that excuse all too well. He’d been living with Eddie for almost a year now, and every time Eddie got remotely sad or emotional about anything, he’d give Mike some bullshit like “I’m tired” or “I was listening to a sad song.” 

“Eddie, just… tell me what’s wrong. Please. I know you’re upset, and I really don't wanna push, but if it’s affecting you to the point that you’re crying… can you please talk to me?” 

Eddie shook his head, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his head on them. 

Mike waited and waited for Eddie to say something, and just as he was about to get up and make them some tea, Eddie spoke.

“I just… I miss him is all,” Eddie said, face hidden in his hands.

Mike knew who ‘him’ was. 

“The old him, y’know? The one who made stupid jokes about my mom and hung out with us at Bill’s every Saturday, shared the hammock with me, baked brownies for my birthday, showed off with his stupid impressions and voices, stayed late with me at the quarry and then walked me home...” he stopped, choking up. “Shit. The R-” Eddie stuttered on his name. He _couldn’t_ say it. “The one who loved me. Loved us. Back when we were enough, when _I_ was enough for him. But apparently I wasn’t. Because he turned to drugs. Heroin, Michael!” Eddie screamed, looking up with tears blurring his vision. “Heroin! Do you know how many times I came home to him passed out on his bed, not knowing if he was going to wake up? He slept through all his classes, and all I could think was what if he dies, right now? What would I have done?” Eddie rubbed at his eyes, but the tears persisted. “What if he’s dead, right now?” Eddie hid his face in his hands and let the sobs come. 

“Oh, Eddie,” Mike said sympathetically, wrapping his best friend in a hug. “I’m so sorry. He’s not dead, I promise. He’s not.”

“You don't _know_ that!” Eddie screamed hysterically. “YOU DON'T KNOW THAT!” 

“Yes, I do. Bev texted me. He’s okay. He’s in a rough spot, but he’s okay-” 

“No! Please, please don't tell me anymore. I can’t hear about him. I shouldn’t be, this isn't good for me, I’m dwelling, help me, Mike, I’m dwelling, what do I do? WHAT DID I DO WRONG?” he yelled, breaking off into sobs once again. “It wasn’t my fault.” 

“You’re right, Eddie. You’re right. It’s not your fault.”

“Then why do I feel so guilty?”

“You want my honest opinion?” Mike asked. 

Eddie nodded. He knew Mike was good for this shit. 

“Because you still love him.”

Eddie opened his mouth to contradict that statement, but found that he couldn’t, so he just started crying again. 

Mike held him and waited until he calmed down to speak again. “And that’s okay. It may take you a while to get over him. But it’s never going to happen if you don't face it. Those TV shows and movies are always going to remind you of him if you let them. Those songs are always going to be his songs, until you make them yours. I’m not even saying you should get into a relationship. Actually, I’m very against that idea. I don't think it’d be a good idea at the moment, considering where you’re at in this break up. But I do think that you should get back out into the real world, at least friendship wise. And you should call your friends back home, too. Believe it or not, Stan, Bill, Beverly, and Ben all miss you _very_ much.” 

“Oh, I believe it,” Eddie said wetly, wiping stray tears. “I’m sorry.” He sniffled. 

“For what?” Mike asked, confused. “ _I’m_ sorry for pushing. I just… I miss you. You used to be so happy. Sure, you were neurotic, but that was you. Now, it’s like… it’s like all the light’s gone out of your eyes. And I’m worried,” Mike said, genuine care in his eyes. 

Eddie looked up. “I’m sorry for worrying you.” 

“Stop saying that, stop saying sorry. None of this shit is your fault. I just want you to be okay again, and be happy with yourself. Because even if you still love him, which is completely okay, you need to be okay on your own, too. You need to let yourself feel things, Eddie.” 

“What do you mean? I _feel_ things-” 

“Then how come almost every time you get emotional you blame it on a book, movie, or a song? Even if there’s no book by your bed and your phone is stuck between the couch cushions? It’s okay to feel things Eddie. It’s okay to be sad about a break up, it’s okay to take a while to fall out of love. It’s okay, it’s okay,” Mike kept repeating that, and rubbing Eddie’s back as he cried. 

“I don't… I don't wanna fall out of love,” Eddie mumbled brokenly. “I miss him.”

“It’s okay,” Mike said softly, content to just listen. 

“I miss him, and you’re right. You’re right. It’s okay. I can miss him, but I should also learn to get over him and be okay with myself. You’re so right. That past relationship doesn’t define me. Those books, movies, and songs aren’t _his_ . This world isn't his. Sure, everywhere I look I see him, but-” Eddie paused, taking a breath. “-I shouldn’t spend the rest of college wasting away in a dorm room because my ex boyfriend was a drug addict. It’s been a year! I should be over him by now! A year! I can’t believe it’s been a year…” Eddie trailed off, unable to continue . _Just when he thought he was feeling better_ . “I wish I could go to parties, I wish I could watch TV, hell, I wish I could _talk_ to other boys. But it’s so hard when everywhere I look, he’s there! It’s _so_ hard!” 

Mike hugged him. 

“He would’ve made a your mom joke about that.” Eddie laughed wetly. 

Mike snorted. “It’s going to be okay,” Mike said. “We’re going to get through this.”

Eddie nodded, wiping his eyes. “Yeah. I can… I can ease myself back into things. I enjoyed those movies too. This wasn’t just his favorite movie, it was- it’s mine too. It’s mine. The songs on my phone are mine, and this world is mine to take. I can do this,” he said, building himself up.

“That’s the spirit!” Mike exclaimed. “Just keep saying that to yourself, and you’ll find that it’s true.” 

“That’s cheesy.”

“It’s true.”

“Can I have some tea?” Eddie asked, yawning. All that crying tired him out. 

“Mhm,” Mike nodded, standing up to go make some. 

He came back a few minutes later with two cups of sleepytime celestial tea, Eddie’s favorite.

“Thanks,” Eddie said, letting the cup warm his hands and heart. He yawned again. “I think I’m going to turn in for the night.”

“Okay,” Mike said, folding the blankets back on the couch and putting the bowl of popcorn away. 

“Goodnight,” Eddie said, giving Mike a hug. “Thank you for being here. I don't know how I’d get through college without you.”

“Same with you,” Mike replied. “Goodnight.”

Eddie drank the rest of his tea, listening to a playlist that he was going to take back as his, not R- not _his_. 

_Here I stand with head in hand_

_Turn my face to the wall_

_If she's gone I can't go on_

_Feeling two foot small_

_Everywhere people stare_

_each and everyday_

_I can hear them laugh at me_

_And I hear them say_

_Hey, you've got to hide your love away_

_Hey, you've got to hide your love away_

_How can I even try?_

_I can never win_

_Seeing them hearing them_

_In the state I'm in_

_How could she say to me_

_"Love will find a way"?_

_Gather 'round all you clowns_

_Let me hear you say;_

_Hey, you've got to hide your love away_

_Hey, you've got to hide your love away_

Eddie listened with slow tears falling down his face, vowing to never shed another for _him_ again. He grabbed his phone and deleted the song. The _song,_ not the playlist. He was allowed to have one weak spot. This song always made him feel melancholy. 

He fell asleep quickly, knowing that tomorrow would be better. It _had_ to be. And same with every day after that. 

* * *

A few months later, Mike came into his room and invited him to another party.

“Lemme guess…” Eddie started with a grin. “Julie invited you?” 

Mike nodded, unable to contain his smile. “So… will you come?” 

Eddie thought about it for a minute, and against his better judgement, said yes. 

He took a shower, and let his hair air-dry so that it would be slightly curly. He threw on a pair of ripped light wash blue jeans and a yellow sweater that made him feel confident and ready to handle whatever this party decided to throw at him.

He hoped it’d be fun. 

“Ready to go?” Mike asked. “Oh, and… feel free to drink. I’m going to drive home.”

Eddie blushed. “Uh… Mike, I don't-”

“I said feel free. Not ‘you have to drink or I’ll be really really mad for the rest of the week,’” Mike teased, laughing. 

Eddie laughed along with him, easing up.

He had a good feeling about tonight. 

They walked into the house together, but Mike quickly saw Julie, and although Eddie was gay, he could see why Mike had a crush on her. She had long blonde hair, a slim figure, and pretty brown eyes, and from what Mike had told him, she was an artist with a relatively timid personality at first, but once you got to know her, she was wild. 

“Well? What are you waiting for? Go get your girl,” Eddie said, nudging Mike’s shoulder. 

Mike blushed and laughed a bit. “Yeah. Okay. You’re right. Okay. I can- I can do this, I can-”

“Mike,” Eddie said, turning Mike by the shoulders so they were eye to eye, even with their height difference. “Just go.”

“Right,” Mike said. “Thanks, I’ll-”

“ _Go_.” 

And he was gone. Eddie smiled, happy because Mike was gonna be happy in a few minutes. He saw the way Julie was eyeing him. His feelings were definitely reciprocated. 

Eddie hung around for a bit, trying to find a crowd of people he knew. When Mike was finished adorably (albeit awkwardly) conversing with Julie, he came over to Eddie to tell him all about it. 

“I got her number!” Mike said excitedly. 

“Great job, Mike,” Eddie said. “I knew you could do it.” Mike was smiling so much Eddie was sure his cheeks were gonna start hurting soon. “Why’d you leave?” 

“Oh, uhm… you looked kinda lost. Do you want me to introduce you to some of her friends?” 

“Sure, why not?” 

“Hi,” Mike said. “This is my best friend and roommate, Eddie.”

“Hi, Eddie!” Julie said. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from alcohol, and her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail. “I’m Julie.”

“Hi,” Eddie said back.

“Oh! And this is my best friend and roommate, Elijah.”

“Roommates…?” Eddie asked. 

“He’s gay,” Julie gushed.

Elijah didn’t seem to mind that she just outed him to a couple complete strangers. In fact, he seemed rather pleased. He was looking at Eddie a lot, a lot more than would be considered normal…

Eddie ignored it and turned back to Julie. 

“So, you guys have Biology together, right?” Eddie asked. “Any other classes?”

“Art!” Julie answered happily. “Mike’s a really good artist.”

Mike blushed. “So are you.”

“Not really,” Julie said self-consciously. “Remember, last week when we had that one creative assignment? And we were just told to use one color and draw whatever we wanted? It took me _hours_ to think of something! You came up with your idea right away!” 

“I guess, but that doesn’t make you any less talented,” Mike gushed. 

“Hey, wanna go get drinks?” 

“Hm?” Eddie asked. “Were you talking to me?”

“Yes,” Elijah answered with a smile, teeth glinting in the blacklight of the room. “Oh, sorry. I should’ve asked. Do you not drink?”

Eddie nodded, a little starstruck at how pretty this guy was. I mean, sure he was staring at Eddie and made him feel a little uncomfortable at first, but now he was staring back, and he had a really good reason why. 

Elijah had straight, dark, brown hair, so dark it was almost black. He was wearing a pair of tight, black, ripped skinny jeans, and to top it off he had on a…

Led Zeppelin shirt. 

That was one of _his_ favorite bands. 

_No, Eddie. Led Zeppelin doesn’t belong to_ him. _Just, relax._

“Oh, that’s okay. You can just have a-”

“Oh, no. Sorry, that’s not what I- I drink,” Eddie said, laughing. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Elijah said, and led him into the kitchen. “Pick your poison.”

“Hm… a margarita is fine, thanks,”

“Mhm,” Elijah said, starting to mix a couple of margaritas. “So, what grade are you in?”

“Sophomore,” Eddie replied easily. “You?”

“Junior.”

_So he’s older._

“What are you majoring in?” 

“Psychology,” Eddie said. “What about you?”

“Art. That’s how Julie and I met, actually. Sixth grade art class. Gosh, we were so young,” Elijah laughed, and a piece of hair fell into his eyes. Eddie resisted the urge to brush it back. “How far back do you and Mike go?”

“Oh, a while,” Eddie said, sipping his margarita. “Since we were 13.”

They went on like this for a while, easy conversation between the two of them. Eddie found himself growing to like Elijah. 

“How many, so like…” Eddie slurred, losing his train of thought. “What time’sit?”

“Time to go home,” Mike said, walking into the kitchen, Julie trailing behind him, a giggling mess. 

“Aw… but we just got _here,_ ” Eddie whined. 

“You, sir, are drunk,” Mike said, laughing. 

“Am not!” 

“Mhm,” Mike replied, he let go of Julie and watched her collapse right into Elijah’s open arms. “You think you can take her home?” 

“Yeah,” Elijah said. “What about you?”

“Oh, I am completely sober. How many drinks did he have?”

“Like, four,” Elijah replied. 

“You had more!” Eddie shot back, giggling. He hid his head in his arms. Everything was getting so blurry…

“C’mon Eddie, it’s time to go home,” Mike repeated. 

“‘Lijah,” Eddie slurred. “Bye.” He giggled. 

Mike shook his head. “You are _such_ a lightweight.”

“‘s not my fault I’m tiny,” Eddie protested. 

“Bye,” Elijah said sadly. “Oh, wait. One more thing, c’mere.”

Mike stood in the doorway, waiting patiently while Elijah wrote something in Sharpie on Eddie’s arm.

“My number,” Elijah said. 

Eddie’s eyes widened and he grinned. “Thanks.”

Mike nearly dragged him out to the car. “So…? Are you glad you decided to come?” Mike asked. 

“Yes…” Eddie said. “And I got his number, gosh, he was so sweet… and so cute, do you think I’ll ever see him again?”

“Uh… you got his number?” Mike said, smiling at how out of it Eddie was. “Of course you’ll see him again! I bet we can plan something this weekend with him and Julie.”

“Like a double date?” Eddie said, voice heavy. 

“Sure,” Mike said. “Like a double date.”

Eddie passed out before they got home, and Mike did his job as Eddie’s best friend and roommate and helped him outstairs, leaving a glass of water and aspirin on his nightstand for the next morning. 

“Thanks,” Eddie murmured before conking out again. 

“No problem,” Mike said, ruffling his hair and grinning. 

The next morning was a little rough, and Eddie stared and stared at the number on his arm before finally adding it as a contact. 

All he could think of was _him_. 

And he wanted to stop. 

And the more he texted Elijah, the less he thought of… he still just _couldn’t_ say his name. He was starting to think he never would again. 

Maybe he was okay with that. 

So he texted Elijah. 

And he _knew_ that probably wasn’t healthy, he _knew_. But he did it anyway, because being in like (even if it was feigned) was always better than being in pain. 

“Who’re you texting?” Mike asked him a few weeks later. They had gone out to lunch with Elijah and Julie last weekend, and Elijah was… obviously _very_ interested in Eddie. 

Eddie had mixed feelings about this. Sure, Elijah was hot, artsy, gentle, charming, and… probably a good guy. 

_No_ , Eddie thought, remembering how Elijah treated their waitress at the restaurant and held the door open for an elderly couple on the way out _, he was_ definitely _a good guy._

So then why weren’t sparks absolutely soaring? He liked Elijah. He liked Elijah a lot, actually. But did he think Elijah was someone he could grow to _love_? 

Eddie mindlessly snapped Elijah back, thoughts running through his head a mile a minute. _Was he just leading this poor guy on? What_ was _love, truly? How much longer was this going to last? Was Elijah going to confess or was he? What was there to confess to?_

Eddie tried so hard to let these thoughts slide out of his head and pop like bubbles, and they did, for a while. 

This while was enough for Elijah to ask Eddie out on his own, and then, later that night, Eddie got a text.

_Hey, I had a really great time tonight, and I really like you. Like, like-like you. And I understand if you don't feel the same way, but it would be really cool if you did, and maybe considered being my boyfriend?_

Eddie felt tears well up in his eyes. _Damn it, why was he crying? A really hot guy liked him, for goodness sake!_

_But that guy wasn’t-_

Eddie, in a moment of pure denial and utter defiance, texted Elijah back.

_I would love to. <3 _

That was what started it all 

They started going out on dates, and Elijah was the absolute sweetest. Valentine’s Day was heaven, Elijah’s parents were amazing people, Elijah did everything a good boyfriend was supposed to do, and _more._

_But at the end of the night, he wasn’t-_

_No_ , Eddie thought as he laid awake for the fourth night in a row. _Why are you still thinking about_ him _?_

Elijah took cute Instagram pictures with him, snapped him late at night, hell, they even made out in the back of Elijah's car. 

His nice, brand, new Ford. 

_But when Eddie went back home, that car wasn’t-_

One night, he didn’t go back home. He stayed the night. 

And when their junior and senior years started, Elijah asked if he wanted to stay the night a lot more often. 

Eddie said yes, because he’d never really been taught how to say no. He’d only said no once, and he’d _never_ regretted anything more. 

It was a few days before the day he was supposed to go home.

Elijah and he had just finished watching a movie, and Eddie was feeling a little antsy. 

_What if he saw Richie when he got back home? What if things were off between the Losers because he and Richie had to hang out with them at different times? What if everyone hated him? What if they blamed him for Richie going even more downhill than he already was?_

“Hey… Eddie, where’d you go, baby?” Elijah asked sweetly, pulling Eddie close.

“Nowhere, just… going home soon y’know?” Eddie replied.

“Mhm…” Elijah hummed, tilting his head down to give Eddie a quick peck. 

Eddie leaned into the kiss, opening his mouth and giving Elijah full access. 

“Mm…” Elijah hummed again, laying down almost on top of Eddie. Eddie pulled his fingers up through Elijah’s beautiful black hair, and Elijah pulled his hands slowly down Eddie’s back, sending shivers down his spine. Eddie leaned into the kiss even further, pressing his body against Elijah’s. 

“Should we take this to the bedroom?” Eddie asked, surprised at his own boldness.

He was just trying to distract himself. He only needed a distraction.

 _Elijah_ was just a distraction.

“Uh… sure,” Elijah barely got out before Eddie’s lips were on his once again.

They made their way to the bedroom, and Eddie pulled Elijah’s shirt over his head and started trailing kisses along his stomach. Elijah pulled Eddie’s shirt off as well. 

“Are you sure you wanna-”

Eddie kissed him to shut him up.

He just needed a distraction right now. 

Because he couldn’t think about going home, he couldn’t think about those old small-town streets, and his mom, and his home, and the Losers, and _him_ -

Elijah held Eddie’s hips. 

_He_ used to touch him there. 

Elijah ran his fingers through Eddie’s hair. 

All Eddie felt was the ghost of _his_ touch.

Elijah’s fingers dipped below Eddie’s waistline. 

Eddie pulled away, shocked. 

All he could feel were _his_ hands touching him there, _his_ hands touching him everywhere, _his_ hands, _his_ , _him_ -

“Maybe we should stop,” Elijah said, equally as out of breath, but for a different reason. “You look a little freaked out.”

Eddie nodded, breathing hard. 

“Are you okay?”

Eddie nodded again. “Tired, I think.”

So they went to bed. 

“I love you,” Elijah said just before he drifted off. 

_I love you._

Great.

Now how was Eddie supposed to sleep?

His distraction didn’t work at all. In fact, it seemed to do the exact opposite. 

He couldn’t stop thinking, and feeling, and that-

“ _It’s okay to feel things, Eddie,_ ” Mike’s words from a couple years ago echoed back in his head. 

He said I love you. 

Eddie started to cry. He cried because Elijah said I love you, and he didn’t say it back, but Elijah clearly thought that it was okay, as he was peacefully asleep right now, and Eddie was the one _using_ him, fucking _using_ this wonderful boy-

As a distraction?

What kind of bullshit was this? 

He looked at Elijah heartbrokenly. 

Eddie didn’t deserve him. Elijah was so good to him. So, so _good._ Eddie rolled over and watched the tears hit his pillow. 

Eddie wasn’t good enough for Elijah. It wasn’t fair for Eddie to fall asleep at the end of the night thinking about how Elijah wasn’t- 

How he was still in love with-

“Richie,” he whispered, tears pouring down his face. “Richie,” he said again, curling into a ball and hugging a pillow to his chest.

He said it. 

He said Richie’s name. 

For the first time in _years_ , he said Richie’s name. 

He cried a while longer, and inhaled sharply when he felt Elijah stir. Elijah rolled over and hummed into Eddie’s shoulder. 

“You okay?” 

Eddie nodded tentatively. 

It wasn’t fair. 

He was going home in a few days, and he was still hopelessly, helplessly, and quite possibly forever in love with his drug addict of an ex-boyfriend.

And it wasn’t fair to Elijah. 

At all. 

“You sure?” Elijah murmured into his back. His breath was warm on Eddie’s skin. Eddie shuddered.

Elijah wasn’t Richie. 

He never was, and he never would be. 

And Eddie just had to accept it. 

“Yes,” Eddie said tentatively, not really trusting his voice. He was right not to trust it. It gave him away. 

Elijah sat up. “You don't sound okay. What’s wrong?”

Eddie stayed put. “I’m fine, ‘lij, just go back to sleep.”

“Baby, look at me. C’mon, Eds.”

Eddie sobbed. 

That nickname absolutely shattered him into a billion pieces, all over the ground. 

“He- you- _ah_ -” Eddie started, unable to breathe. 

Elijah grabbed his inhaler off their nightstand and put it up to Eddie’s lips. 

“You called me Eds,” Eddie mumbled, still in a state of shock. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I should’ve asked if that nickname was okay-”

“Richie called me Eds,” Eddie said, still not looking at Elijah. 

He was long gone at this point, in a town called Derry, Maine, at thirteen years old, sitting in Richie’s room and laughing as Richie called him a bunch of stupid nicknames that he scolded him for at the time, but really loved and cherished like nothing else. 

“Richie?” Elijah asked. “Baby, I’m confused, who’s-”

“My ex-boyfriend,” Eddie said immediately. “Shit…” he trailed off, unable to breathe. He sucked on his inhaler like his life depended on it, and maybe it did. He didn’t know. “My _ex_ . He’s… he’s my ex. He was a drug addict. And he loved me, but he loved his drugs more. And so… and so we had to break up. But I. STILL. _LOVE._ HIM.” 

“Eddie, I don't- I’m sorry, I-”

“Elijah it’s not your fault, none of this is your fault, it’s not mine either, oh my- Elijah you’re so sweet, you’re quite honestly the sweetest boy I’ve ever met in my entire life, and you’re so hot, and you’re the best boyfriend ever, you’re such a good artist, you give amazing massages, your parents are beautiful people, and I love you, I really do, I just… I don't think I’m _in_ love with you…” Eddie trailed off, choking on a sob. “Not in the way I am impossibly, forever in love with Richie.”

He felt so broken, torn apart, and helpless. He always had. Ever since the break up he’d felt this way. It was like… it was like a part of him was missing. He’d tried to fill that hole countless times with countless things: Elijah, schoolwork, sleep… but nothing seemed to work. 

It felt like his heart was torn in two, and couldn’t find its other half. 

“Okay,” Elijah said, his voice utterly numb. “You should go.”

“I should go,” Eddie repeated in the same tone. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Elijah said, voice still devoid of any and all emotion. “Love is a crazy, fucked up, messy thing.” 

“You’re right. What about my things…?” 

“I’ll have Julie get them to Mike. Uhm… Eddie?”

“Yes?” Eddie asked, struggling to talk through his tears.

“Thank you. For showing me what love is.”

Eddie choked up a little. “Of course.”

Then he ran out of Elijah and Julie’s tiny apartment, jumped in his car, and sped all the way back home. 

“Mike, Mike, Mike!” he yelled, running through the front door. 

“Hm…?” Mike asked groggily, walking out of his bedroom. 

Eddie broke down.

“Oh… oh, shit, Eddie what happened?”

“I, he- I can’t- Richie, Richie, Richie, Richie, Richie, _Richie_ ,” Eddie repeated, more pain in the word each time he said his name. “I miss him _so_ much. I always have. I can’t get over him, and I _can’t_ be with Elijah. I fucking- I _used_ him, Mike, I- I need Richie, I miss him, I want him to be okay, I _need_ him, I’m in love with him, I still love him, I _still love_ him…” Eddie trailed off, brokenly sobbing in Mike’s arms.

“It’s okay,” Mike said softly, rubbing Eddie’s back. “It’s going to be alright. We’re going to graduate soon, you’re going to have a hell of a good time at these last few parties, I’ll make sure Julie doesn’t bring Elijah, it’ll be okay-”

“It’s not _his_ fault! It’s mine! Don't you understand? I’m the problem! I’m the problem… nobody is ever going to love me again! I blew it, Mike! WHY DO I STILL LOVE HIM? I blew it… I’m so sorry…”

Mike sat on the couch for what felt like forever, soothing Eddie, rubbing his back, and refilling his water every time he drained it. Throughout the course of the night, Eddie told him everything he’d been feeling and bottling up these past three years, and by the end of the night, he was exhausted. 

“This is why we don't bottle up our emotions, Eddie,” Mike chastised half-heartedly to a half-asleep Eddie. 

“I know,” Eddie murmured. “It’s going to be okay, though?” It wasn’t a statement. It was a question. A question that he needed a straightforward answer to.

“Of course,” Mike said, though he didn’t know if he was correct. He just knew that was what Eddie needed to hear in that moment. He led Eddie to his bedroom and tucked him in. 

Unbeknownst to Mike, Eddie grabbed his phone and downloaded a song he hadn’t heard in nearly three years now. 

_You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away_ by Eddie Vedder played in his mind all night long, and throughout the rest of the weekend. 

It plays out loud right now as Eddie drives away from Richie’s old house. 

He sniffs and wipes his eyes frantically. 

He opens the door to Ben and Beverly’s gorgeous apartment. 

He’ll talk to Richie tomorrow.

He’ll do it.

He’s going to do it. 

Reuniting with the Losers felt so good, but it still felt like something was missing. Because something- some _one_ was. 

Richie. 

Their resident trashmouth, the comedian, the lovable idiot of the group.

Eddie didn’t realize how much he missed him in their group dynamic. He knew how much he missed him when he was alone, but jeez…

He’ll ask Bev about him tomorrow. 

Just to see if he’s better.

( _And maybe if they can be friends again…?_ )

Eddie just wants to know if he’s gotten off the drugs.

( _And if he has a girl/boyfriend…?_ )

Eddie just wants to make sure he’s safe and still talks to everyone.

That they’re all still good. 

That he’s good. 

_Hey, you've got to hide your love away_

_Hey, you've got to hide your love away_


	4. Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And Eddie?”  
> He looks up. “Yeah?”  
> “It’s going to be difficult. Of course I want you to try, but just know this. Things are very different now.”  
> "Well, obviously, I haven’t seen him in five years after he-”  
> “No, like even more different than that bullshit.”  
> “How does it-”  
> “Just… call him.”   
> And then she’s gone, leaving Eddie alone with his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi all ! sorry for the wait haha  
> this chapter is a trip, omgosh  
> anyway, go listen to afterglow by taylor swift for the full experience :) it rly fits this chapter and this whole fic, tbh  
> leave kudos / comment if you like !  
> <3

Sunlight streams in through the open window, interrupting Eddie’s last few minutes of sleep. He inhales and turns his head, trying not to think. He knows he was crying last night, his eyes are swollen and his nose feels slightly clogged.

He just doesn’t want to think about why. 

The sun persists and rouses him, and he sits up and goes to the bathroom to splash his face with water. He looks slightly better, but the Losers know him all too well. 

He grabs his phone to check the time. It’s only eight. If he’s lucky, nobody’ll be awake yet and he can let his eyes adjust to being open and get rid of the swelling. That way, nobody will ask questions. He opens the door and looks around, and it seems like the coast is clear. 

He walks into the kitchen and sees a familiar head of red hair. He’s just about to turn around and hide in his room for a few hours, but she’s talking to someone on the phone. 

He stands behind the door and listens, curiosity getting the better of him. 

“Yes, they’re here,” she says. “I don't know, we haven’t really talked much yet, they just got here last night. I don't know, Richie.”

_Richie._

She’s talking to Richie.

“You should just tell him all this shit yourself. Just _call_ him. I’m not going to talk to him for you. Honestly. You’re being absolutely ridiculous.”

 _Who is him?_ Eddie wonders. 

“Richie, I gotta go. Making breakfast for six is not an easy task.” There’s a pause. “I know that. Ha. You can barely make breakfast for two.”

 _For two?_ Two.

Richie’s moved on, Eddie blew it, and he needs to go _right_ now, before he starts sobbing like the cry-baby he is. 

“Maybe. Maybe if you fix this fucking mess. Again, all you gotta do is _call_ him. Richie, shut up. I gotta go. I love you. Bye.” 

_Him_ . _Who the hell is_ him? 

Eddie is just about to turn around and tip-toe back to his room, but Beverly turns around first. 

“Eddie,” she says lightly, all in one breath. “How much did you hear?”

“Uhm…” he stumbles, not sure how to answer. “Enough,” he offers. “Are you okay?”

She nods. “Of course, why wouldn't I be?” She turns off her phone, but fiddles with the volume buttons nervously, a habit she picked up from none other than Richie himself, the very subject of Eddie’s anxiety. 

“I don't know, you just seemed nervous.” 

“It’s weird having everyone back here since it’s been so long.” _Everyone except Richie. That’s why it’s weird._ “And… and I haven’t had coffee yet, so many that’s why I seem nervous or whatever,” she says quickly. “Would you like a cup?” 

“Can I have tea instead?” he asks. 

“Of course,” she replies, getting a tea kettle started, along with the coffee maker. Half the Losers like tea and the other half like coffee. She’s grown accustomed to making both in the mornings. Coffee for Bill, Richie, and herself, and tea for Eddie, Mike, and Stan. Ben’s preference changes depending on his mood. 

"And enough? What do you mean you heard ‘enough’?” Bev questions.

“I don't know, I-”

“Just- do you know who I was talking to?” 

Eddie swallows, hard. He nods. 

“ _Fuck_ . Yeah, he uhm… he saw the picture I posted last night and he misses us, y’know? He called and asked how we were doing, and asked about… uhm… _shit._ This isn't my place to tell you. He’s such an idiot.”

“I know,” Eddie says. His voice cracks. _I miss him_ , he wants to say. _I want to call him_ . _I hope he was talking about me, when he called you. I hope I’m_ him _._

He remembers when Bev mentioned cooking breakfast ‘for two.’ He realizes their ship has sailed. They’re over. They’re done. Eddie needs to move on, because clearly, Richie was able to. 

He’s cooking breakfast for two now.

“Are _you_ okay?” 

He sighs. He knew he wouldn't be able to avoid that question. “Yes,” he lies quietly. 

“You look like you haven’t slept.” 

“I did,” he says, and that much is true. He just didn’t sleep _well_. 

“For how long?”

“I don't know, Beverly, why are you interrogating me?” he asks frantically, almost laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

“I’m not. Calm down. Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you nervous.” 

“I’m not nervous, I’m just tired,” he says. 

That was his excuse for every emotion he ever experienced in college. _I’m tired. I just need to sleep. I’ll be fine tomorrow._

He never was. 

“Okay, here’s your tea. Do you wanna talk?” 

Eddie shakes his head, but Bev knows him. She knows he’ll open up in a minute or two, tell her just a semblance of what he’s thinking, just enough to get her invested, intrigued, and caring. Just enough to feed the what-ifs, anxieties, and insecurities inside his head.

“Did he ever…” Eddie says in a small, quiet voice. “Did he ever get clean?” 

Beverly smiles. “He is. Three full years clean, almost four.”

Eddie gasps, and then takes a huge sip of his tea. He blinks heavily and takes a deep breath, trying to remember that Richie is cooking for two now. He’s taken. 

_He doesn’t love you._

“Do you think he’d ever want to see me again?”

 _Oh, Eddie,_ Bev wants to say. _He loves you, he’s loved you all this time, you are both the biggest, blindest idiots I’ve ever met, just drive over, meet his daughter, go out for dinner, have fun, make up because you two were_ clearly _made for each other_. 

_Clearly._

The universe won’t let them let each other go. 

But Beverly can’t say any of those things. It just isn't her place. She sits and slings an arm around Eddie’s shoulder.

“Yes. You’re a part of The Losers Club, always have been, always will be. Of course he’d wanna talk to you again. He wants to talk to and be with _all_ of us again, I know he does.”

“So you think we can try being friends?” Eddie asks hopefully. 

Why is he getting his stupid hopes up? Richie broke his heart once as boyfriends, he’ll certainly do it again as friends, but…

But what?

But he’s clean now, it’s different now, Eddie is _different_ now.

“It’s going to be hard,” Bev answers, after a long sigh. “But… maybe you guys could work something out…? You guys could try to be friends. And if you won’t do it for yourselves, at least do it for the Losers,” she says. 

Eddie looks so incredibly heartbroken. She almost tells him everything. 

Key word: almost. 

“We all felt his absence last night,” Beverly continues. “Right?”

Eddie nods, not looking at her. 

“Just… give him a call or something. You’d be surprised. He wants to talk to you, he wants to talk to _us_.” 

“You guys have still been friends all these years?” Eddie asks. 

“Yes,” Bev replies. “Yes. Very good friends. We’ve all kept in touch, honestly. It’s just… with you and Mike in New York...”

Eddie puts his head in his hands and runs his fingers through his curls. 

“Just _call_ him,” Beverly says, standing up.

“And Eddie?”

He looks up. “Yeah?”

“It’s going to be difficult. Of course I want you to try, but just know this. Things are _very_ different now.”

“Well, obviously, I haven’t seen him in five years after he-”

“No, like even more different than that bullshit.”

“How does it-”

“Just… call him.” 

And then she’s gone, leaving Eddie alone with his thoughts.

That’s exactly what she said to Richie. 

_Just call him._

It’s in that moment that he knows, Eddie is _him_. The boy Beverly was talking to Richie about. 

But why the hell would Richie want to talk to the ex-boyfriend who left him, when he’s making breakfast for two?

 _He probably just wants to be friends_ , Eddie’s brain quickly supplies. _He probably wants to fix everything for the Losers, not for you, and himself._

Eddie manages to convince himself that he misses their group dynamic, not Richie alone. 

He’s doing this for the Losers, not himself. 

The Losers.

Not Richie.

Not. _Richie._

He picks up the phone, and dials Richie’s home phone from memory. 

_Holy shit._

Holy _shit._

He didn’t just-

He presses call. 

It rings once, twice, and then-

“Hello?” Richie asks, voice slightly heavy. 

_Fuck, I woke him up. Fuck, he probably hates me. Shit, why did I call him. I’m literally going to have a heart attack if I-_

“Uh… hi,” Eddie says, his brain not really comprehending his actions at the moment. 

“Eddie?” Richie asks.

_Is that hope in his voice?_

No. It can’t be. 

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. He can’t think straight.

“Hi,” Richie says again. Eddie can hear the smile in his voice, but he refuses to believe it. 

This can’t be real. 

It’s been five _years_.

“Eddie, I-” Richie starts. He doesn’t know what to say. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Wow.”

“How… how are you?” Richie asks, not really knowing what to say.

“I’m okay,” Eddie says, not bothering to hide his smile. No one’s here to see him, and this is the first time he’s heard Richie speak a sentence without slurring in five _years_. “What about you?” 

“Busy,” Richie says, laughing a little. 

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. “Life’ll do that to you.” 

They laugh together, and the sound is like music to Eddie’s ears. He can’t believe he’s lived without Richie’s laugh for this long.

“Dude, I can’t believe how long it’s been,” Richie says, not really knowing what else to talk about. 

The only things on his mind are the things they obviously can’t talk about: the break-up, how he got clean, how he’s cooking breakfast for two, or any of that shit. 

“I know,” Eddie breathes into the phone. “I know. I just got here yesterday to meet up with the Losers for the first time in a while, and uhm…”

“How is everyone? Oh, who am I kidding, I see them all the time! How’s Mike-n-Ike? I’ve missed him,” Richie interrupts. 

Eddie thinks about how easily those words seemed to flow off Richie’s tongue. 

_I’ve missed him._

Maybe Eddie isn't _him_ , after all. Maybe it’s Mike. 

No, no, that would be stupid, Beverly told Eddie to call Richie, not Mike, Richie misses Eddie _too_.

_That’s stupid, too! Eddie’s brain screams at him. He doesn’t miss you, he doesn’t love you, he’s cooking breakfast for two!_

“Mike is great, we’re all over here living our best lives!” _Wishing you were here._

“That’s amazing, I- uhm… hold on one second, Eddie-” Richie’s voice becomes muffled. “Yes, apricot, what’s up?” 

“Daddy?” 

Eddie hears another voice join in. 

She calls him Daddy?! That’s so weird, and-

The voice sounds younger.

No way, no _fucking_ way. 

Eddie closes his eyes and resists the urge to bang his head against the wall. He tries to put that tiny little voice through a filter and forget he ever heard it, because he _obviously_ wasn’t meant to, but-

From what it sounds like, Richie has a-

Cooking breakfast for _two_. 

The second person is Richie’s-

Nope.

Eddie refuses to acknowledge it. 

“Sorry about that, Eddie? Where were we?” 

“Uhm… I don't- Uh… Mike and I just got back from college.”

“Yeah! How was it?” Richie asks. “I’ve heard college is amazing, but it just wasn’t really my thing. I wanted to start doing gigs as soon as possible, y’know?”

Eddie knows. He spent _weeks_ crying over the fact that he and Richie would be separated, before he realized that’s what needed to happen. Richie was a jackass, and an idiot, and a complete _dick_ -

Was.

Past tense.

“It was great. We, uhm… yeah, it was super fun.” _I missed you the whole time I was there. I’ve wanted to call you since forever._ “Bev was… Bev was wondering if you, like, wanted to come over to hang out with us? Lucky seven, reunited?” Eddie asks, squeezing his eyes shut and hoping that Richie will say yes and not question him, just come, and talk to him, and that maybe they can fix… things. Fix them. Fix the Losers. 

“I mean… sure,” Richie says simply. “Sounds fun.” He’s trying so hard to be nonchalant, but Eddie knows him. 

And that’s probably the most painful part of this whole thing. 

Eddie _knows_ him, how he talks, what he likes, how he processes his emotions.

Eddie not to read too heavily into the cues Richie is showing him. 

Eddie really wants to believe that Richie wants to see him again. He wants to believe that there can be an attempt at friendship and normalcy. 

“Okay, well, I’m going to go, Bev is making breakfast and wants me to help,” Eddie lies. 

Richie knows he’s lying, and Eddie knows Richie knows he’s lying, but he lies anyway because he just _needs_ to get off the phone right now, or he’s going to scream.

Right in Richie’s ear. 

“Right, and uh… I gotta go too. I’ll see you later?” 

“Totally.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.” 

Richie hangs up. 

Eddie puts his phone down and nearly squeals with delight. Richie wants to see him, and the other person he’s cooking breakfast for isn't a love interest. 

Although that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have one. 

Eddie wishes his brain would shut up for just one second, just _one_ second, that’s all he asks. One second of peace. 

Beverly comes walking into the kitchen. “Did you call him?”

Eddie nods. 

“And…?” 

“Gosh, not in that tone of voice, Bev. We’re not eighteen years old anymore, and we’re not crushing on each other.”

Denial. A skill Eddie has absolutely mastered by now. 

“Oh, I know,” Bev says. “Of course. What did you guys talk about?” 

“College, and stuff… and uhm… I may have invited him over tonight…?” 

“Oh, Eddie that’s great! Lucky seven, together again!” 

Eddie smiles, but his heart isn't in it. “Yep. I’ll be right back. I need to go shower.” 

“Okay, see you at breakfast?”

“Yep. See you then.” 

Eddie walks upstairs and passes his room, stepping into Mike’s. 

“Mike. Mike, please wake up. I just made a really shitty decision. I think I’m about to have a heart attack, or puke, or faint. Or all three.”

“Woah, woah,” Mike says groggily, sitting up. “What happened, Eddie?” 

Eddie explains everything that he’s felt since he’s been here, including every word of the phone call, and the drive he took to Richie’s house late last night. 

“Holy shit,” Mike says. 

“Holy shit!” Eddie repeats. “What the hell am I going to do? I can’t see him, not like this, not when I’m- Mike, why the hell did I do that?” 

“Because you want to see him,” Mike replies simply. “It’s going to be okay, Eddie. It’s not like you guys are going on a date. It’s just friends getting together after not seeing each other for five years because two of them went off to college in New York. Eddie, I need you to breathe. Look at me.” 

Eddie looks at Mike and breathes with him for a minute. “You’re right. I just… when I see him, I know everything I’ve already been feeling is going to get worse.”

Mike is quiet for a minute. “Have you ever considered that maybe he feels that, too?” 

“Feels what?” Eddie asks.

“Well… pretty much everything you’re feeling?” 

“Not really,” Eddie says. “I mean, I assume he’s moved on by now, and that I’m just going to be helplessly in love with him for the rest of my life.”

“Eddie, listen to me. The universe works in mysterious ways, but I believe that God always has a plan. You aren’t going to be hopelessly in love with him for the rest of your life. You will find someone eventually. Whether or not that someone is him, I don't know, but-”

“How can you even suggest that?!” Eddie squeaks out, speaking incomprehensibly fast. He stands up rapidly, starting to speak with his hands. “I mean, it’s been five years, we haven’t seen each other in five years, he’s definitely moved on, and I’m just stupid, goodness gracious why am I still sitting here? I should be, I should be eating breakfast or going on a run, or doing something-”

“Something to forget?” Mike offers. “I thought we weren’t doing that shit anymore.” 

Eddie sits down, accepting defeat. “I just want things to be normal,” he says quietly. 

“And what is normal?” Mike asks. 

“Not feeling this tension and awkwardness.”

“Did you feel awkward and tense over the phone?” 

“Sometimes,” Eddie admits, playing with his hands. “When I wanted to say something about the past five years that wasn’t about the Losers, yeah.”

“And, you called him because you wanted to see him and hear his voice, the same reason you invited him over tonight, correct?” 

“Yes, and also because I miss him in our group dynamic, Mike. I mean, I knew how much I missed him alone, but in a group it just hurts that much worse. It’s like there’s this absence, this gaping hole that just can’t be closed until he’s there, and I hate it, because he created that fucking hole when he started doing drugs!” 

“I know, Eddie, I know, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Now here’s something we need to figure out. Are you going to attempt to have a friendship with him on your own, or are you just going to be cordial with him around the Losers.” 

_Is this for yourself, or for the Losers?_

“I… uhm…” Eddie really wants to say it’s for the Losers, but it’s not. He wants Richie. He _loves_ Richie.

“Judging by your inability to answer, I’m guessing it’s for you?” 

Eddie nods and rubs his eyes.

“Eddie, it’s okay,” Mike says gently, wrapping his arms around his best friend. “It’s okay.” 

Eddie breathes and pulls away. 

“So are you going to pursue this friendship?”

“If he wants to, then I’d really like to,” Eddie says. “I miss him… not only as a lover, but as a best friend too. I miss the way we used to joke around, and his laugh, and what he added to the group. I miss-”

“I know,” Mike says. “But let’s not get caught up in that. I don't want you to dwell, okay?” 

Eddie nods, looking sheepish.

“It’s okay. I get it. I know what missing people is like. It sucks. But hey. He’s right next door. You can pursue that friendship, you can pursue it in a group environment and alone. You can call him. You don't have to leave off where you started, Eddie. You can start fresh. Think of this as a fresh page in your story.” 

“You’re talking like he’s still in love with me, too.” Eddie sniffs, smiling all the same.

“He just might be.” Mike smiles. “Now how about that breakfast?” 

* * *

Richie nearly slams his head against the wall when he hangs up the phone.

“Who’s that, Daddy?” Emilia asks. 

“An old friend,” he replies easily, picking her up. She giggles. “Are you hungry?” 

“Bweakfast! Bweakfast!” she yells. 

“One order of waffles, coming right up!” he exclaims playfully. “Wanna help me make ‘em?” 

“Mhm! Yeah!” she screams excitedly. 

He sets her on the kitchen counter and retrieves a box mix from the cupboard and a few measuring cups, along with a glass of water and a bottle of vegetable oil. 

“Okay, I’m going to need you to measure out one cup of the mix, can you do that for me, pumpkin?”

“Yes,” Em replies, picking up the measuring cup and spooning out the box mix with her tiny fingers.

“Great job, apricot!” 

She giggles. “Thanks, Daddy.”

Richie gets out the waffle maker and heats it up, spraying it quickly with a can of Pam. 

“Of course. Now we need one cup of water, can you pour it in?”

She nods and complies. 

“And one tablespoon of vegetable oil. Do you know which one is the tablespoon?”

She looks at the different spoons strewn about around her and picks up the biggest one. “This one?” 

“Mhm,” Richie hums. “And how did you know that?”

“Teaspoon is smaller because tea is smaller than a table!” she exclaims.

“Exactly!” Richie says, smiling at how smart she is. He whisks together the batter and lets her help pour it. He closes the waffle maker and flips it, letting her listen and watch it sizzle and cook. 

“Smells good,” she mumbles. 

“Yeah?” 

She nods. “Almost done?” 

“Mhm… just one more minute probably.” 

“Okay, I’ll get the plates.” 

He helps her down off the counter and she goes to grab her plastic plates. He placed them where she can reach them because he wanted her to feel like she could be a help in the kitchen. And she is. 

Richie grabs the bottle of syrup out from the fridge, and a container of whipped cream. He opens it and smears some on her nose. 

“Daddy!” she exclaims, startled. 

“It’s Cool Whip,” he says simply. 

She sticks her finger in the can and smears some on his cheek. 

“Em!”

She giggles. “The waffles are done.”

He checks them. “Yes, they are.”

“Sixty seconds. One minute.”

“You’re so smart,” he says. 

She blushes at the compliment. 

He cuts a banana and grabs a package of walnuts out of the fridge, and then lets her place everything where she wants it. 

He puts a sizable helping of Cool Whip on his waffles, and saves it all for last.

“Aunty Bev says that too much sugar in the morning isn't good for you,” Em says. 

“Well, next time you see her, be sure to tell Aunty Bev you had bananas and walnuts too, okay, plum?” 

Emilia smiles and nods. 

She helps him wash their dishes when they finish, and then plays by herself while Richie works on new stand-up material.

Working on new stand-up material turns out to be freaking out over Eddie and hovering his finger over the call button next to Bev’s name.

Eddie called _him_.

That can loosely translate to Eddie missing him, Eddie wanting to see him, and maybe even… Eddie still loving him. 

Maybe.

Richie doesn’t want to get his hopes up. Also, that seems pretty impossible after the way Eddie walked out five years ago, but… Richie was so different five years ago. If Richie can clean up his whole life, maybe it’s possible for Eddie to have a change of heart?

He wants to call Bev, but he knows she’s with Eddie, and Eddie called him not too long after Bev hung up… he can’t risk Eddie hearing one of his conversations with Bev, even if it was only one-sided. But he needs to call Bev sometime or the other, because he needs details. All Eddie said was ‘do you wanna come over to hang out with us?’ He gave no time, date, what to wear, what to bring, none of that. Absolutely nothing. 

He sounded so… hopeful and smiley. Richie could barely bite back his apologies, as he didn’t want to make things awkward.

He wonders if Eddie is trying to pursue a friendship with him, outside of the Losers, or if he is just trying to be cordial.

He sounded so happy to talk to Richie again, like it was… like it was something personal. Richie prays that it is.

After another hour of waiting around with his closet open and finger over the call button, he calls Bev. 

“Beaverly Marsh! How are you?” he asks.

“Great. How are you?” she asks, voice going up at the end.

“I’m dying, what’s new? So basically, my ex-boyfriend who left me when I was a jackass alcoholic just asked me to come hang out with him and the rest of our old friends, what should I wear, when should I arrive, and what should I bring? Also, where am I going to put Emilia?” 

“Wear a white tank-top with your yellow hawaiian shirt and a pair of jeans. Not the tight ones, the regular ones. Do a little bit of mascara but nothing more than that, and at least attempt to tame your curls. Please. You can show up whenever you want, we’re all just hanging out. But we’re getting a pizza at six. You don't have to bring anything, Rich, it’s just us. I mean, come on, I’m basically the mother of your child.”

Richie rolls his eyes. “You’re not wrong.”

“I know.”

“Speaking of said child…” Richie starts.

“She can come with! We’re not going to be drinking.” 

“Beverly, I don't know if that’s a good idea…” 

“I told him things are different, Richie.”

“I know, but he might have a heart attack. Hell, what if he thinks I’m with a woman? What if he wants to be friends again but refuses because he thinks I’m a dirty slut?” 

“What if I think you sound like him right now?” Beverly laughs. “Seriously. Quit it with the what ifs. Between the two of you, I’m going to have an aneurysm.” 

“Gee, thanks.”

“Just… try to calm down, okay? You’d be surprised. He wants to see you and talk to you. You guys were friends first. Fingers crossed you’ll fall right back into that groove.”

“Bev, we aren’t first graders any more. And besides, I have a kid! In case you forgot!” 

“Yes. Bring her, please. And maybe think about Mike being home as well? Not everything has to be about Eddie all the time. Mike isn't extremely active on social media, so he might want to see Emilia for the first time since her first birthday picture on Instagram.

“Yeah. Right. I’ll try to think about them both as normal friends, not one friend that just moved to New York for college and the other who moved to New York to get away from his drug-addict ex-boyfriend. Yep.” 

“Richie, please cut the attitude,” Bev says. He can hear her rolling her eyes. “Six o’clock, yellow hawaiian shirt, bring Emilia, and act normal. Be chill.” 

“Got it.”

He hangs up, and starts getting ready.

* * *

“Eddie, stop pacing, you’re making _me_ nervous,” Mike says, chuckling.

Eddie sits. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay. Remember, just be yourself, and be friendly.”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds pretty easy.”

“It is.”

“It’s not!” 

The doorbell rings. 

_Fuck._

“Bev’ll get it, I don't have to go downstairs yet,” Eddie says aloud. 

“Eddie, just follow me. You’ll be fine.”

Against his better judgement, Eddie follows Mike down the stairs. 

“RICHIE!” Mike screams. 

“Mike-n-Ike!” Richie yells back. 

They hug, and it’s this crazy reunion, and Eddie really, _really_ wishes he could sink into the floor right about now.

“Eddie,” Richie breathes. 

“Hi,” Eddie says back, equally as breathless. He takes Richie in from head to toe. He’s grown a few inches, even though he was an adult when Eddie last saw him, some boys don't stop growing until this age, around twenty-three. He’s wearing a pair of blue-jeans and a tacky Hawaiian shirt that’s so _Richie_ , Eddie could cry. His hair is dark, curly, and beautiful, and his eyes are deep brown and magnified behind his coke-bottle glasses. “You still have your glasses.”

“And you’re still short.” 

Before Eddie can make a comment, someone behind Richie speaks up.

“Daddy! Daddy! Who’s this, who’s new?” a young voice asks.

Eddie’s heart stops beating. 

“Em, come here,” Richie says, turning around and picking up a small child.

She looks just like him. Same dark, wild hair and brown eyes, freckles, same dimple in her left cheek. 

“This is Eddie, an… old friend of mine,” Richie says carefully. “Same with Mike. Can you say hi?”

“Hi, Eddie, hi Mike!” the little girl says. 

“Eddie, Mike, this is Emilia, my daughter.”

_Daughter._

Eddie’s heart continues to pound furiously in his chest. He forces his breathing to slow so he won’t cause a scene. 

“Holy shi- shiitake mushrooms,” Mike says quickly. “Daughter?” 

“Yep. You guys missed a lot while you were in New York,” Richie says light-heartedly, grinning. 

There it is. There’s the smile Eddie fell in love with all those years ago. Not the doped up half-smile that had been all he’d seen in his last few days with Richie.

No. 

This one was real. 

This smile could heal. 

Jeez. Eddie finds himself smiling, too.

“Emilia’s a pretty name,” Eddie says, the words falling out before he can stop them.

“Thanks.”

Bev and Mike grin at each other, and only Stan and Bill notice. Ben is busy ordering pizza in the other room. 

“Well, come in, we’re all just having apple cider on the couch in the other room because screw seasonal beverages! Apple cider is so good we should have it year-round!” 

Eddie vaguely wonders if they’re not drinking for Richie or for his daughter, but quickly pushes those thoughts out of his head.

“Agreed completely, Miss Beverly Marsh,” Richie says, closing the door behind him.

He walks into the living room with ease, and Eddie follows him, something in his soul just dragging him toward Richie.

“So, where are you and Mike thinking of settling down?” Stan asks casually, a question that wasn’t brought up last night. 

“Uhm… we’re not really sure yet,” Eddie says honestly. “It’d be ideal to stay here with you guys, but Mike actually… well, do you wanna share the news?”

“I met a girl down in New York,” Mike says happily. “And we really love each other. I’d like to bring her up to Maine, have her meet Grandpa and you guys, and maybe even live with her here… but we’re still figuring things out.” 

“That’s amazing, Mikey!” Richie says, patting him on the back. 

“Yeah, Mike, that’s great,” Ben chimes in.

“Yep,” Mike says, blushing. “So Ben and Bev, you guys have this wonderful apartment, what about Stan and Bill, are you guys living with each other?” 

“Y-y-yes,” Bill says, grabbing Stan’s hand. “It’s been g-g-great so far, it’s b-b-been, what…? T-t-three? F-four years now?” 

“Something like that,” Stan says. 

“W-w-what about you Eddie? Did you m-m-meet anyone in N-n-new York?” 

Mike knows not to ask about that. Eddie hopes Beverly knows not to ask about that. Apparently, Bill thinks that he’s gotten over his and Richie’s break-up like a normal, sane person.

Eddie’s a Loser. Bill should know this more than anyone. But they haven’t talked in so long…

“Uh… not really,” Eddie answers honestly. “I focused more on school work.” 

He’s looking at Richie as he says this, and he doesn’t miss the way his face lights up. Eddie tries not to overanalyze, tries not to think at all, actually. 

“That’s great. No distractions,” Stan says, smiling kindly.

Eddie nods. “Yep.”

“Anyway, aside from school and romance, we also explored New York and boy, is the city amazing.”

“New York?” Emilia asks, speaking up for the first time since they arrived.

“It’s a city a little south from us, apricot,” Richie exclaims.

“Apricot?” Eddie asks. 

“I-” Richie starts.

“He nicknames his daughter after different foods because he’s an idiot,” Stan explains.

Eddie laughs. 

“Don't encourage him.”

“I like it,” Emilia protests. “I love food.”

“Yep. Definitely Richie’s daughter,” Ben says, laughing.

“See? It’s fine, Staniel,” Richie says. “She loves it.”

“But… yeah, New York is a state and city where Mike and I lived to go to college,” Eddie explains gently.

“College?” Emilia asks.

“It’s school for adults,” Mike says.

“Will I go to college, Daddy?” Em asks, tugging at Richie’s shirt. 

“If you want to,” he replies honestly, smiling. “I mean, you’re certainly smart enough. And I know every parent says that about their kid, but I swear, she’s a genius!” Richie whispers, hands over Emilia’s ears. She tries to get them off, but his hands are too big and hers are too tiny. 

Eddie takes a minute to process that word. _Parent._

 _But it takes two to make a baby. Where the hell is her mom?_ He doesn’t want to ask. 

“I don't doubt it,” Mike says, smiling.

They hang out a while longer, getting back into the swing of things. The group feels so normal and _complete_ with Richie there, and Emilia just adds a whole new level of light and love to the room. There’s a bit of awkwardness between Richie and Eddie when anything romantic gets brought up, or when the other Losers mention high school, but other than that, Eddie feels amazing.

 _Maybe this is it_ , he thinks. _The eye of the storm._

_The afterglow._

Eddie yawns, checking his phone for the first time in a while. He had no need to, because everyone he cares about is right here in this room. Emilia is now included on that list. “Holy shiitake mushrooms, it’s like, midnight,” Eddie says, shocked. “How is she still awake?” 

Richie shrugs. “I swear, this one doesn’t need sleep,” he says. “Are you tired yet, pumpkin?” 

“No,” Emilia says. 

“Yeah. She stopped taking naps at like, two, which sucked for me but I mean, good for her. I didn’t stop ‘til I was six.” 

Eddie snorts. 

“Well, anyway, if it is indeed midnight, we should probably get home.” 

“No…” Emilia whines. “Don't wanna leave.”

“Berry, you gotta go to bed.”

“Uh-uh. I’m not tired,” she protests.

“Daddy is,” Richie half-lies, standing up with her in his arms.

“Let me say goodbye,” she says.

“Okay.” 

Richie sets Emilia down and she hugs everyone, one by one, saying goodbye. She comes over to Eddie last, and throws her arms around his neck. He’s startled, but hugs back anyway.

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

“Goodnight, Em,” he says back, missing her as she walks away. 

Missing her, and missing her dad.

He rubs his eyes. “I think I’m going to head in, too. I’m hoping to go for a run tomorrow morning, and… yeah. Goodnight, guys.”

“Goodnight,” they chorus back.

Mike knowingly follows him up the stairs. “So?”

“So what?” Eddie asks, blushing.

“So… you’re not dead.”

“No, but I’m not completely alive either.”

“Eddie, talk to me now. I don't want you to bottle up your feelings and then have a complete breakdown tomorrow. And, if you’re going to move forward with Richie as friends, you can’t bottle up your feelings,” Mike says, firm but kind.

“His kid is so cute! She’s so adorable! And so polite, too! _GOSH_ ,” Eddie says, all in one breath. “That… what we just did down there for the past six hours… that felt like normal, it felt like fun, as long as no one mentioned romance, love, or high school. But people are going to mention romance, love, and high school. I need to learn to get over that.”

“You’re right, but you don't feel sad, or anxious, or anything?” Mike asks.

“I feel… I feel light, and tired, and like I don't have to think, not like I have to think about not-thinking. Does that make sense?” 

Mike chuckles and nods. “Wow, Eddie. I think you’re okay.”

“I am?” 

“You are. Now, get some sleep.”

“I’m okay,” Eddie repeats to himself once he’s alone in his room.

And so is Richie.

* * *

_Gosh, he’s gorgeous,_ Richie thinks as he lies awake in bed. 

After not having seen Eddie for five years, he sure was a sight for sore eyes. His pink lips, warm brown eyes, and small, loose curls. His small hands, short stature, and gosh his _voice_. He’s missed that voice.

He’d finally gotten Emilia to bed after around an hour of trying, and is on his second hour of trying himself.

He wants to talk to Eddie, for real. Not like… not like they’re dancing around certain subjects and flourishing in others. He doesn’t want to be walking on egg-shells.

He wants to apologize. He wants to call Eddie right now and say sorry, ask him out to dinner, dress nice for him, he wants to… he wants to _love_ him again. 

He thought he blew his chance, but… nobody could deny how easy it was for Richie and Eddie to slip back into their normal bickering. Nobody could deny how Eddie barely left Richie’s side that night, and vice versa, except when Emilia had to use the bathroom. 

Richie thinks maybe, just maybe, tomorrow he could ask Eddie out. As friends. Because they were friends first, right? 

Best friends.

He dreams of dinner dates and warm, brown eyes, staring at him from across the table.

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy, wake up!” Emilia yells at eight the next morning. “Hi.”

“Hi, baby,” he says, squinting against the sunlight coming in through the window. He puts on his glasses. “What’s up?” 

“Can you make me some cereal please?”

“Of course, plum,” Richie says, yawning and throwing on a shirt. He quickly fixes a bowl of cereal for Emilia, and then one for himself. 

Richie remembers what he told himself last night, about calling Eddie and asking him out to dinner as friends.

He takes a quick look at his schedule, and… 

He has a gig tonight.

Holy shit, he has a gig tonight. And he doesn’t have a babysitter for Emilia. 

“Uh… Bev?” he asks uncertainly over the phone.

“Richie, what do you want, it’s like eight in the morning?” she whispers, undoubtedly trying not to wake Ben.

“Okay, so… I kinda sorta have a gig tonight, and I also wanted to ask my ex-boyfriend out on a friendship date, what? I didn’t say that. Anyway, I have a gig tonight and I don't have a sitter, would you mind coming over and watching Emilia for a bit until I get back?” 

“From what times?” Bev asks tiredly. 

“11 to 2 am probably,” he answers. 

“ _Richie_.”

“I’m sorry!” 

“Can’t you drop her off over here or something?”

“I mean, sure, but-”

“ _Dude_. I just had a good idea.”

“Enlighten me.”

“What if, you ask Eddie to come over and watch Em while you do your gig, and then when you come back, it’ll be late, you guys can talk, and-”

“Beverly…”

“You wanted to ask him out to dinner anyway. C’mon. Did you see the way he was looking at you last night?”

Richie did. “But he was probably just in pain. Like, remembering memories from when I was-”

“You were a jackass, I know. But you’re not now. Just… give him a call. You’d be surprised. Now, I’m pretty sure nobody’s even awake at the moment-”

“To be fair, I only am because of Emilia.”

“I know. But anyway, Eddie will be going on a run around 9:30, you can give him a call after that.”

“Beverly…”

She hangs up.

Richie sighs, and sits down on the couch. “Em, can I braid your hair?” 

She nods, grabs a brush and a couple hair-ties from her room. He untangles her curly hair strand by strand, and gives her two french braids while she watches Mickey Mouse.

“Thanks, Daddy,” she says, and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

“Yeah. Okay, kiddo. That’s enough cartoons for the morning. Let’s go read something.”

Now, Emilia can’t really read _too_ well yet, but they’re working on the alphabet and Richie likes to spend at least an hour and a half every day working on simple math and english lessons, so she’ll be prepared for kindergarten. 

He pulls out a few small books, reads them to her, and then has her read them back on her own. He helps her sound out words with fun voices, and she loves it. Mathematics is a little harder, but they get through, with minimal tears this morning, thankfully.

“Can I watch Hello Kitty now?”

“Sure,” Richie says. “I have some work to do, so knock before you come in, okay?” 

“Okay!” she calls back, running off. 

He looks at the clock, and it’s way past 9:30. He assumes Eddie will still have his phone on him, though.

Just _call_ him. It’s not that hard. He called you, for goodness’s sake.

It’s not that hard.

Richie presses call. 

“Hi, Richie, what’s up?” Eddie asks. Richie can hear him smiling. 

“Nothing, really, I just… hi, I uhm… I have a gig tonight, and, like, I completely understand if you don't want to… but like…” _Fuck._ He really should’ve rehearsed this. “Okay, since you and Em got along so well last night, and honestly, I had a hard time putting her to bed ‘cuz she kept wondering when she was going to next see you and Mike… uhm… do you wanna like come over and watch her, while I work? Again, if you don't it’s _so_ fine-”

“I would love to, Richie,” Eddie says fluidly. 

“Really?” Richie asks, unable to stop the question from escaping his brain.

“Of course. Emilia’s such a sweet kid. From what times?”

“Uh… don't hate me. 11 to 2.”

“Pm?”

“2 am,” Richie responds.

“Oh. That’s fine,” Eddie says, with minimal pauses in between.

Richie sighs internally. “Okay, so I’ll see you then?” 

“See you then.”

Richie hangs up and screams. 

“Daddy! Are you okay?” Emilia exclaims, rushing into his room.

“Yes,” he says in one breath. “And I’m working, little sugarplum, you need to knock!” he says playfully, scooping her up and tickling her.

“I- just- thought- you- weren’t- okay,” she says in between fits of giggles.

“I’m fine, I just have work tonight, and guess what? Eddie’s going to come and watch you tonight!”

“Uncle Eddie?” Em asks.

“Uhm…” Richie stammers, not really sure how to explain to his four-year-old that Stan, Bill, Ben, and Mike are her uncles but Eddie isn't. “No. Just… just Eddie.”

“Just Eddie!” 

Richie chuckles. “Yep.”

* * *

“Mike, I can’t believe this. He wants me to come over to babysit his kid,” Eddie says, pacing around Mike’s room.

“I know,” Mike says. “It’s amazing. He trusts you with his child, and she trusts you, and they both obviously like you. So you’re going to go over there, have a great time with Em, talk to Richie a little when he gets home, if that’s what you want to do of course, and then come home and tell me all about it!” 

“Mike, stop gossiping,” Eddie teases, smiling.

“Gosh, Eddie, I haven’t seen you this smiley in a while.”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. “I like it.” He pulls on a sweatshirt. “Well. Wish me luck.’

“Good luck.”

Eddie hops in the car after saying goodbye to everyone else, eager to arrive at Richie’s house. 

He knocks on the door, rocking on his heels nervously. 

“Hi,” Richie says, smiling. He’s dressed in a suit and _hot damn_. 

Eddie can’t be thinking that! He runs a hand through his hair, hoping to clear his mind. 

“Hi,” Eddie replies, stepping inside. “So… what are the rules? Is she already in bed? Is there anything I need to do for her?”

“Uh… well… she doesn’t really have a proper bedtime at the moment, just, whenever she starts yawning I warm up some milk, put it in a sippy cup, and set her up with a movie on the couch.”

“Oh, okay,” Eddie says.

“She’s already half-way through the milk, so just kinda sit with her, she’ll tell you if she needs anything.” Richie laughs a little at that.

“Okay.”

“Anything in the fridge is yours, and feel free to watch anything you want, too.”

“Thanks, Rich.”

“It’s no problem. Thanks for coming over to watch her.”

“Of course.”

They stare at each other, and anybody with eyes can see that they’re crushing on each other, but Richie’s blind and Eddie’s in denial.

And they are both still in pain.

“Break-a-leg,” Eddie says.

“Thanks.”

Richie leaves.

“Eddie?” Emilia asks uncertainly, picking her head up from the couch. 

“Yeah, it’s me, Em,” he says. 

“Eddie!” she yells, jumping up and running over to him. He picks her up, hugs her, and twirls her around, loving every second of it.

“Hi, Emmy!” 

“Emmy?” she asks, confused.

“Yeah, it’s a nickname,” he explains, a little embarrassed that he let it slip.

“Food?”

“No, not food,” he says, chuckling. “Emilia. Em. Emmy.”

“Emmy,” she says, trying out the new word. “I like it.”

“So, what movie are we watching?” Eddie asks. 

“Madagascar,” Emilia replies, back in her position on the couch with a Frozen blanket thrown over her legs. “It’s my favorite.”

“Oh, I love that movie,” Eddie says. 

Em yawns. “This is my favorite part.”

By the end of the movie, Emilia is asleep on the couch, and Eddie is unsure of whether he should move her or not. He wants to text Richie, but knows that he shouldn’t because he’s in the middle of a show, and to have his phone ring would look really bad.

Okay, picking up a child and putting her to bed shouldn’t be that hard. She looks pretty light, and if she’s anything like Richie, she’ll sleep like the dead so…

He doesn’t wanna touch her, for fear that he’ll wake her up, but he also can’t let her sleep on the couch. He doesn’t want to imagine how many nights she and Richie have both fallen asleep out here and stayed out here. Probably too many to count.

 _Just pick her up_ , he tells himself. _Just do it._

He stands up slowly, and then picks her up, blanket and all. The sippy cup falls from her grasp, right onto the couch, but it doesn’t spill. 

Okay, he’s got her, and she didn’t wake up. Now all he has to do is move. 

She sniffs, and tilts her head.

_Shit._

Eddie takes a deep breath, and refuses to let his brain go into panic mode.

He steps gingerly through the family room, and makes his way upstairs. A stair creaks and he winces. Emilia doesn’t wake. 

He places her softly in her bed, pulling up the covers and brushing a loose curl back, wondering how Richie managed to do her hair so well. 

Eddie leaves the door open in case she needs anything, and then walks quietly downstairs. He turns the TV on for mindless background noise, and sits alone with his thoughts.

He wishes he wasn’t waiting for Richie to just come home.

He shouldn’t like Richie like this still. Not after five years.

And… and Richie shouldn’t be leading him on.

Richie isn't leading him on, he’s just trying to be a good friend. This is all stuff _friends_ do.

Friendship. That’s what Eddie wants.

Friendship.

* * *

The drive home is slow, and lonely.

_I blew things out of proportion, now you're blue_

_Put you in jail for something you didn't do_

_I pinned your hands behind your back, oh_

_Thought I had reason to attack, but no_

_Fighting with a true love is boxing with no gloves_

_Chemistry 'til it blows up, 'til there's no us_

_Why'd I have to break what I love so much?_

_It's on your face, and I'm to blame, I need to say_

The radio plays a new song called “Afterglow.”

It reminds him of Eddie. He turns the radio off.

He opens his door and smiles, remembering Eddie is still here. He walks into the living room quietly, and his heart melts at what he sees.

Eddie is fast asleep on the couch, hugging a pillow to his chest and soft breaths coming from his slightly open mouth.

“Aw, Eds,” Richie says, letting the nickname slip for the first time in _forever_. “Jeez, what am I gonna do with you?” 

He sets his bag down on the kitchen counter and walks upstairs to check on Emilia, who is perfectly content in her bed.

He grabs a snack and dares to sit down on the couch next to Eddie. He doesn’t move. Richie turns the volume on the TV a little lower, remembering how Eddie hated to fall asleep with it on. He’d go on and on about how unhealthy it was, but Richie hated the quiet. Eddie tried to get him to listen to music instead.

He hadn’t listened.

Now, he would. Now, he would love to listen.

He grabs a blanket from off the ottoman, tucks Eddie in, and heads to bed himself. He falls asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow. That's something that hasn’t happened in a long, long time.

* * *

“Mmm…” Eddie groans as the sunlight hits his closed eyes. He’s tired. He’s…

He’s not in his bed in Beverly’s guest room.

Shit…. he… he fell asleep at Richie’s!

He sits abruptly, grabbing his phone and looking at the time. Ten? It’s already ten?!

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Richie says, smirking.

Eddie blushes. “Yeah… sorry about that, I just-”

“Don't apologize. It’s fine. You’re human. You fell asleep. I’m just surprised you slept through her wake-up call,” Richie says, pointing to Emilia, who waves at them from her spot on the floor. She’s building something with foam blocks.

“Yeah. Uhm… thanks for letting me stay over, and watch Emilia.”

“Anytime, hey did you… did you wanna go get breakfast? There’s that pancake place down the road… Em’s only had some fruit so-”

“Richie-” Eddie starts.

“As friends, of course, I mean, I-” 

Eddie gasps. He was- He considered- the-

“I would love to, but I really gotta go. Mike’s been blowing up my phone, same with Bill. I bet they’re all worried as hell. I gotta go,” he repeats.

“No, I uhm… I texted them, it’s all…”

“Richie. I’ll see you later.”

Richie shuts up. “Yep. See you later.”

And then he’s gone.

“Daddy? Are you okay?” Emilia asks.

“Yes, Em. I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Emilia shrugs. 

She’s more intuitive than she looks. 

Richie stares at his phone, really wanting to call Eddie.

But Eddie left. He stayed the night, and then he left. That was his decision. Richie just needs to apologize. He needs to speak what’s been on his mind.

That song… that song from last night… Afterglow.

He finds it on his phone and gives it another listen. He’s clear-headed this time, not melancholy.

_Hey_

_It's all me in my head_

_I'm the one who burned us down_

_But it's not what I meant_

_Sorry that I hurt you_

_I don't wanna do, I don't wanna do this to you_

_I don't wanna lose, I don't wanna lose this with you_

_I need to say, hey_

_It's all me, just don't go_

_Meet me in the afterglow_

Maybe this is the Afterglow.

Maybe things can start to go back to normal, maybe this is Eddie’s eye of the storm that he always talked about way back when. 

_It's all me, just don't go_

_Meet me in the afterglow_


	5. Tennessee Whiskey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey  
> You're as sweet as strawberry wine  
> You're as warm as a glass of brandy  
> And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi !  
> it's been a bit, but here is the content you all deserve ! <3 :) <3  
> the title might be a little concerning, yknow, but just read and you'll understand haha  
> go ahead and listen to tennessee whiskey by chris stapleton if you want  
> this has angst, fluff, and everything in between  
> oh and thanks so so much for all the comments and kudos so far, they really make my day and i love talking to you guys  
> :)

Eddie rushes into Bev and Ben’s house, trying desperately to keep his breathing steady.

Richie really _just_ -

No. He doesn’t want to think about it. He’s hoping to get to his room, get changed, and go for a run without seeing anyone, but when you’re living in a house with five other people, that’s nearly impossible.

“Hi, Eddie,” Bev says, sitting on the couch with Mike and Ben. Stan and Bill are probably getting food. “How are you?” 

“Uh… I, uh…” Eddie starts, wishing he could just say he’s fine and be on his way. “I’m pretty good what about you?”

“Curious,” Bev says honestly, grinning. “Come, sit down! Tell us everything about last night!” 

“What?” Eddie asks. “No, I- you-” His breathing starts to quicken, and he feels a panic attack coming on. “I can’t. I need a minute. I’ll be down for breakfast… thanks, bye.” And then he runs upstairs to his room, hurriedly closing the door behind him. 

He’s a _mess_. He tangles his hands in his hair, trying to soothe himself, but it’s not quite working. He grabs his stupid inhaler out of his pocket, hating the fact that he still needs it after all this time. He takes a puff and feels his shoulders and chest relax. 

He’s okay. He’s not dying. 

Richie asked him to go out for breakfast, and then had to clarify that it was going to be friendly. That means- that has to mean that he’s still thinking about Eddie! He’s thinking about something more! Richie wanted to go as friends to take it slow, because he knows Eddie, knows how he is, and knows damn well how much he damaged him, but he’s still thinking about more. 

Eddie falls back on his bed, tears welling up in his eyes. He wants to take the last five years back. He wants to have been there when Richie got sober, he wants to have seen Emilia live and grow, he wants to have been a part of Richie’s life, her life… and the rest of the Losers’ lives for goodness sake! After he and Richie broke up, he basically abandoned his entire friend group for five fucking years! And for what? Because he couldn’t bear to say his ex boyfriend’s name?

He’s belittling his problems now. Mike would scold him for that.

Eddie wants… he wants Richie back. His Richie, this Richie. The Richie who asked him out to breakfast not just fifteen minutes ago. 

“Hey Eddie…?” There’s a knock on his door. _Mike._ “Can I come in?” 

“Sure,” Eddie says, rubbing his eyes, and hating the squeaky sound of his voice.

Mike opens the door slowly and then closes it, walking over to sit on Eddie’s bed. He hands Eddie a banana. “Bill and Stan won’t be back with breakfast until eleven thirty-ish, and I assumed you haven’t eaten?” Mike raises an eyebrow.

“You assumed correctly,” Eddie admits.

Mike smiles. “Okay, feel free to eat that, and there’s a lot more fruit downstairs. But, that’s not why I came up here.”

“I knew it,” Eddie says sarcastically. “I knew you couldn’t just bring me food, you have to interrogate me about my life choices and problems.” He smirks.

Mike chuckles. “Yes, oh, curse me for caring about my best friend. But… seriously Eddie, what’s wrong? What happened last night?” 

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. The truth is, nothing happened last night. He babysat Emilia and fell asleep on Richie’s couch. Richie didn’t wake him up until he woke up naturally, and then Richie invited him out for breakfast _as friends_ , with his daughter. Any sane person can see there’s no problem here.

“He invited me out to breakfast this morning,” Eddie says in one breath, as one word. 

“What?” Mike asks. “Slow down a little.”

“He invited me to go get breakfast with Emilia and him,” Eddie repeats, slow and enunciated. 

“And you said no,” Mike states, urging Eddie to continue. 

“Yes, I said no, because I hesitated, and then he said ‘as friends, of course’ and I hadn’t even stopped to consider that he could be just as heartbroken as I am, and missing me just as much as I miss him, so much that he wants to go to breakfast with me and his _daughter_ , I still can’t get over the fact that he has a daughter? Anyway, he’s entertaining the possibility that there could be something more, and I-”

“Okay, Eddie, breathe,” Mike says. “I’m gonna pause you there, just breathe for me for a minute, without the inhaler.”

Eddie compiles and then starts again. “I just… I really… I still love him. You _know_ that. And now… just the fact that maybe, maybe he still loves me too? It’s making me go crazy. Do you think I'm crazy, Mike? Do you think he could still love me too?” 

“First of all, I don’t think you’re crazy at all,” Mike says. “When we all hung out as a group, it was a little awkward at first, but nobody could deny that you and Richie have chemistry. He invited you over to his house to watch his kid, Eddie. He could’ve chosen any one of us to do that, but he chose you. And, furthermore, he invited you out to breakfast and clarified that it was as friends because you hesitated, so the reason he clarified wasn’t because he doesn’t want it to be more, but because he wants you to be comfortable. I think it’s very possible he’s still interested in you, if not in love with you.”

Eddie feels his cheeks heat up, and butterflies start making their rounds in his stomach. “I…” he stammers. “Woah.” 

“Now, do you think this is making you go crazy, or do you just feel crazy?”

“I just… I just feel crazy,” Eddie says, after thinking about it for a moment. 

“Okay, then you’re not. That’s just your emotions. You’re not crazy. Your emotions are valid, but not always reality, you get me?” Mike asks, putting a calming hand on Eddie’s shoulder. 

Eddie smiles. “What do you think I should do?” 

“What do you want to do?” Mike asks sincerely. 

“I want to be with him. Not necessarily like that, but I want to know him again. I want to know him, and his daughter, his life. I want to see him, and his ups and downs… I’ve already seen him at his absolute worst. This could very well be his best, and I don’t want to miss it. Not like I’ve missed the last five years of his life.” 

“Okay,” Mike says. “But it’s okay that you missed those years, Eddie. He hurt you, a lot. Don’t deny that. If you two are going to move forward in a friendly way, you can probably stick to ignoring the break-up and everything that happened five years ago, but if you’re moving forward in a romantic way, which, it sounds like you’re going to try to, that’s something you need to be open to talking about in order to move on, y’know?” 

Eddie nods. “Mhm.”

“It’s going to be hard, but if you both want this, you’ll have to be open with each other. I’m not telling you to throw yourself at him with all these feelings, and knowing how you are around the f word, that’s not something you’d do-”

“The f word?” Eddie interrupts. “Fuck?”

Mike stares at him.

“Oh, fuck you,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes and slugging Mike in the shoulder. 

Mike laughs. “Just the truth. But anyway, just… try to be intuitive. Follow the situation, look at what cues he’s giving you, because right now, it definitely seems like he wants a second chance. It’s completely up to you, though. Whether or not you’re willing to give that second chance.”

“I think…” Eddie starts. “I think I wanna try.” 

“That’s amazing,” Mike says, smiling. “Just promise you’ll tell me all about it, okay?” 

“When do I not?” Eddie shoots back, a small smile on his face. He peels the banana. “I’m starving. Thanks for the food, and free therapy,” he jokes.

“Hey, what are friends for?” Mike says, leaning against the doorframe. “You’d do the same for me.”

Eddie nods. He would. 

Mike leaves him alone with his banana and his thoughts for a while longer. Eddie thinks breakfast with Richie wouldn’t have been bad. It could’ve been fun, actually. He could’ve gotten to know Emilia better, and could’ve gotten to see the Richie that he loves so much. 

Eddie stands and decides next time Richie asks him to do something, he’s going to do it. He’s going to talk to Richie, and he’s not going to hide. 

He’s going to heal his heart, and Richie’s going to help. 

_Hopefully._

He forgets that last part.

Eddie stands, throws his banana peel in the trash, and hops in the shower. He puts on a pair of jean shorts and a simple t-shirt, nothing fancy for today. He walks downstairs to see that Bill and Stan are home. 

“Hi, guys,” Eddie says.

“Hey,” Stan replies. “What’s up?”

Eddie shrugs. “Sandwiches for breakfast?”

“I know, I wasn’t super on board with it either, but…” he looks at Bill, wanting him to continue. 

“M-m-most b-b-breakfast places don’t offer t-t-to-go options, so we had to go to a m-m-more brunch type place, and sandwiches a-a-are good any t-time of d-d-day, in my o-o-opinion,” Bill says matter-of-factly. 

“Not complaining, just confused,” Eddie says, smiling. He grabs a breakfast sandwich from the pile.

“S-s-see? Breakfast s-s-sandwich.”

“Thanks, guys,” Eddie says. “And, I don’t know if I’ve said this yet, but thanks to Ben and Bev for letting us stay here until we get our shit together.”

“Amen,” Mike says, raising his glass of orange juice. 

Bev smiles, and Ben wraps his arm around her. “Our pleasure,” he says. “We really love having you guys here.”

Eddie smiles, a light blush dusting his cheekbones. 

They finish breakfast rather quickly, everyone was very hungry apparently, and then Stan and Bill have to leave again to go to work. 

“Damn, adulting sucks,” Bev says. 

“True,” Stan agrees. “But, at least I love my job. There’s a lot of people who don’t… and I would hate to be one of them.”

“Me too,” Bev adds. “When I get a job, which will be very soon, I only have to put together a few more portfolios!” she says excitedly. “Anyway, when I get a job, I’m going to love it so much, that I’ll enjoy getting out of bed on Mondays.”

“Really?” Ben teases incredulously. 

Bev smacks his arm, and he laughs it off. “Yes, really. Okay, have fun at work.” 

“W-w-we will!” 

“So Ben’s the one who brings in all the money?” Eddie asks curiously.

“As of right now, yes,” Bev answers. “But once I get these portfolios turned in we will both be working to pay off, y’know, everything.”

Ben laughs. “Yep, pretty much.” 

“Mike, looks like we’re going to have to start doing interviews here pretty soon,” Eddie says, smiling. 

“Yep,” Mike says. “I’ve been job hunting a little bit, and I’ve seen a few opportunities at a nearby hospital, since I want to do labor and delivery-”

“Wait, what?” Ben asks. “Did I hear that correctly?” 

“Mike, the group historian, wants to deliver babies?”

“Yes, pay attention,” Mike teases. “I don’t know… history is more of a really interesting hobby for me, y’know? Not a career. I feel like when I’m done delivering babies, I’ll sit down and write a history book, but for now, I just really wanna help deliver in hospitals.”

“Trust me, I was surprised, too, at first,” Eddie says, smiling. 

“So, Eddie, what do you want to do?” Ben asks. 

“Well, I majored in psychology, and I was hoping that maybe I could work in a school, be a guidance counselor or something like that. I just remember how shitty the guidance counselors were back in the day… and I could’ve used a lot of help from them that I didn’t get, so… yeah.” 

“Eddie, that’s amazing,” Bev says. 

“Yeah, dude, that’s really awesome,” Ben adds. “Actually, I think the oldest one is retiring this year.” 

“Ms. Loughty is still there?” Eddie asks incredulously. 

“Yes! Can you believe it?” 

“How old is she now, like 110?” 

“Actually, I think she’s only like 90,” Bev says, chuckling. “She was in her late 70s when we were there.”

“Dude, I could’ve sworn she was 100,” Eddie says. 

“I don’t know who you guys are talking about,” Mike says, smiling. “Care to inform me?” 

“Oh my goodness, there was this really old guidance counselor,” Ben says. “Like, really really old. Her wrinkles had wrinkles, and her teeth were all rotting out and shit, and-”

“Ben, you’re exaggerating,” Bev interrupts.

“No I’m not! And she was really mean, too, and-”

“ _That’s_ true,” Eddie interjects. “Anyway, I’d be glad to take Loughty’s place.”

“You’d do an amazing job,” Ben says. 

“Do you know when the interview is?” 

“No, but, we can certainly find out. Grab your laptop. We can do some apartment hunting, too,” Bev says. 

A few hours and way too many apartments later, Eddie pulls back from his computer screen, rubbing his eyes. “Damn. I need a nap,” he says, laughing a little. 

“Feel free,” Bev says. “I think we found enough places to go look at this week, and your interview is next month, so you have plenty of time to prepare.” 

Eddie yawns and pulls a hand through his hair. “See you guys in a bit.” He closes his laptop and sets it on the coffee table. He pulls out his phone and sees a missed text from Bill. It’s a picture of Stan giving the camera a thumbs up from where he’s hunched over a math problem. Eddie sends a thumbs up back, silences his phone, and collapses on his bed, asleep within the minute. 

He wakes to his phone ringing, around 3 o’clock, and he’s grateful it woke him up, but he vaguely wonders who’s calling. Everyone who would call him lives in this house, unless it’s his mom, or-

He picks up the phone. 

_Richie._

He answers before he can stop himself. “Hello?” 

“Hi,” Richie replies. “How are you?” 

“I’m… I’m pretty good, how are you?”

“Great, actually, uh… one second, sweetie, sorry, Em needs me, one second!” Richie scolds light-heartedly. 

Eddie immediately knows he’s a really good dad. 

“Sorry, she just really wants me to play pirates and princesses with her, you know how it is.” 

Eddie laughs. 

“So, I just wanted to say, like, sorry about this morning, if I made you uncomfortable or anything, but like, I hope you liked hanging out with Emilia, because she really keeps asking about you,” Richie says, chuckling. “Honestly, she wanted to go out to breakfast more than I did.” 

Eddie wants to go back in time about five hours, and change his mind about breakfast, but he can’t do that, so he does the next best thing. 

“Oh really?” Eddie asks, a little cockily. 

“Mhm,” Richie replies.

“Well, if it’s for Emilia, then maybe we can raincheck? Pancakes will still be good tomorrow morning, right?” 

“Ye-yeah,” Richie breathes, sounding a lot like Bill for a minute.

“Okay. And I accept your apology. It’s okay.”

“Yeah, okay. What time?”

“Ten?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Richie says. “See you.”

“See you.” 

Eddie hangs up. 

_Holy shit._

He just did that.

* * *

_Holy shit._

“Daddy, daddy, come play with me, please,” Em asks. “I’ve been waiting for, like, ever,” she exaggerates. 

“Hold on, sugarplum, hold on. I… I need a minute.” Richie leans his head against his home phone and sighs. 

_Holy shit._

Eddie-

“Who was on the phone?” Emilia asks, tugging on his shirt. 

“Nobody, sweetie.” 

“Eddie?”

Richie doesn’t have enough time to reply before Em knows it _was_ Eddie.

“Why?”

Richie doesn’t answer. 

“Breakfast? He wants to come to breakfast soon?” 

“Yes,” Richie finally breathes. “He accepted your invitation and wants to go to the pancake place with us tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. Are you excited?” 

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Emilia exclaims, jumping up and down like the little ball of energy she is. “If I go sleep right now, it will be morning more quicker, right? And then, and then we can go get pancakes?” 

“Berry, you can’t go to sleep right now, you’ll wake up at two in the morning and be tired for pancakes. You can take a nap, though,” Richie offers, knowing he’ll get turned down.

She shakes her head. “No thank you. It’s pirate time! I got you a hat, come here!” 

“Please,” Richie adds. 

“Please,” she says. 

Richie puts on her pirate hat, and she dresses herself up in the Ariel gown Bev got her for Christmas last year. 

“Now where is the beautiful princess?” Richie asks himself, pretending that he doesn’t know Emilia is hiding behind the couch. “She stole all me gold!” he exclaims in a pirate accent. He pulls on a fake eye patch over his hat to make his look even more convincing. 

Emilia giggles. 

“Who was that? Argh, maties! We found her!” Richie exclaims, popping over the edge of the couch. 

Emilia giggles and runs. 

“I”ll catch her!” 

Richie runs as slowly as he can, while still looking like he’s running, letting Emilia take the lead. He eventually corners her at the door to the kitchen, bends down and picks her up.

“We got her now!” 

“No, Daddy, put me down! I’ll never show you the gold!” 

“Really? Not without- tickles!” 

He gently throws her on the couch and starts tickling her, especially right behind the knee, because that’s the spot that makes her laugh the most.

There’s a knock on the door. 

“Ahoy, me maties must be arriving with the backup gold!” Richie says, refusing to break character. “The princess gets away!” 

Emilia squeals and hurries off to her room, probably to change into a new costume.

Richie looks through the peephole in his door to see that it’s only Bev.

“Hi, Bev, what’s hanging?” Richie asks, leaning on the doorframe. 

“Let me inside, you idiot. I brought you some food.”

“Food? Thanks so much. To what do I owe this pleasantry?” 

“Aunty Bev!” Emilia screams, rushing at her only Aunt. 

“Emilia!” Bev exclaims, picking up her honorary niece and spinning her around. “How are you?”

“I’m so, so good, Aunty Bev, and, and Daddy said that we’re going out for breakfast tomorrow with Eddie, isn’t that so great? ‘Cuz we were just playing pirates and then Daddy got a phone call and he got all quiet and nervous and stuff, and then he got very happy and I was like, well it must’ve been Eddie, which I still don’t know why I can’t call him Uncle Eddie because, Uncle Mike is Uncle Mike, but-” 

“I know, it’s so confusing!” Bev says, hugging her niece and then setting her down. “I’m glad you’re excited, though! I brought you guys some lunch.” 

“Lunch! Lunch!” Em yells, jumping up and down. 

“I got you both BLTs, you’re welcome,” Beverly says, taking out the food. She goes through Richie’s fridge and finds a few apples, one for each of them. She also pours three glasses of water. “Seriously, do you hydrate her when I’m not here?” 

“Milk,” Emilia states, biting into her sandwich. 

“I rest my case.” 

“So, what’s the real reason you’re here?” Richie asks, leading Bev into the dining room. “You normally don’t show up with food unannounced, unless you’re-”

“I’m a little anxious, to be honest,” Bev starts.

“There it is,” Richie says to himself.

“Shut up. I mean, I’m not necessarily anxious… I just want to know what happened last night, y’know? Eddie won’t tell me a fucking _thing_.”

“Figures,” Richie says defeatedly. 

“Well? What happened?”

“Well, I came home at around 2:15 a.m., and he’s on the couch, sleeping like an angel. What was I supposed to do? Wake him up? No way in hell. So I checked on Emilia and she was fine, of course she was, Eddie was watching her for goodness’s sake. I got Eddie a blanket and then went to bed myself. I woke up the next morning to Emilia jumping on me. Surprisingly, she let Eddie sleep. He woke up a little embarrassed and then I was an idiot and invited him to breakfast. He got that panicked look in his eyes, you know the one, and then I said ‘as friends, of course’ and he seemed to get even more panicked, so I just let him go. And then-”

“There’s more?” Bev teases. 

“Oh yeah. And then, I decided to call him to apologize and tell him that breakfast was all Emilia’s idea, and half of it was, I swear! She really likes him, like _really_ \- I don’t want her to get too attached, in case I fuck things up again.” 

“It’s okay, Richie,” Bev says, putting a hand on Richie’s back. 

“So he said we could raincheck breakfast and now we’re going to the pancake place down the road tomorrow, all three of us. Me, Eddie, and Em.” 

“Richie that’s amazing!” Bev exclaims. “What are you worried about?” 

“What if I say something wrong and scare him away? You know I have no filter!” 

“Just relax. The guy he fell in love with all those years ago, that’s you now. That’s the guy with no filter, stupid jokes, wild wavy hair, and coke-bottle glasses. The boy Eddie left behind was on heroin, Richie. That’s not you. I’m sure you guys will get back in the swing of things. It’s going to be okay. And besides. Emilia’s going to be there as a buffer. Just relax. Don’t worry about it, okay? You’re going to have an amazing time, and then you’re going to come back and tell me all about it, okay?” 

“Okay,” Richie says, laughing. 

“Now go eat your sandwich. I also brought a few classics for Emilia to watch. And… I have another surprise.”

“Yes!” 

* * *

Eddie wakes up the next morning feeling jittery and nervous, but not anxious. Or, if he is anxious, it’s in a good way. 

“Bev, I know this might seem like a stupid question, but… what should I wear today?” Eddie asks, walking into the kitchen with a bathrobe on. 

“It’s not a stupid question. You know I love dressing you guys. Come on, show me your closet.” 

Eddie takes her up to his room and opens the closet. 

“Wow, you have better taste in clothes than I thought,” Bev says. 

“Uh… thanks?” 

“It was a compliment,” she clarifies, laughing. “Okay. Wear this blue sweater and these light wash ripped jeans, and your white converse.” She doesn’t tell him that she knows Richie will be wearing his mint green hawaiian shirt and similar jeans, and that their outfits will surely compliment each other. 

He showers and dresses quickly, and by the time he’s done it’s almost 9:45. 

“Do you know how far away that pancake place is?” Eddie asks Ben. 

“Uh… like ten minutes,” he answers. 

Eddie, of course, waits the extra five minutes, and then starts driving. 

“They’re such idiots,” Ben remarks when Eddie’s gone. 

“Indeed,” Bev says from her spot beside him. 

“I third that.” 

“Fourth,” Stan says. 

“F-f-fifth.”

“Bill, you can’t fifth something,” Stan says, smiling. 

“Watch me.”

* * *

Eddie arrives at the restaurant before Richie, which he expected, because it’s Richie, but that doesn’t help ease his nervousness. He bounces his leg as he waits, and then he sees two familiar heads of curls at the door. He can’t help his smile.

“Hi,” Richie says, picking up Emilia. She waves. 

“Hi,” Eddie says back, still smiling. “Do you know if we seat ourselves, or…?” 

“I think they’ll seat us, did you talk to the person yet?” 

“The person?”

“Yeah, the one behind the stand thingy?” 

“The hostess?” Eddie asks, smiling. 

“Yeah, her,” Richie says. 

“No, not yet. And jeez, how the hell is Emmy learning to speak with you talking like that?” Eddie teases. 

“Aunty Bev,” Em states. 

“Emmy?” Richie asks. 

“Oh, crap, sorry, it just slipped out, it’s a little nickname, sorry if you don’t like it, I-” Eddie rambles, becoming self-conscious. 

“No, I… I love it.” 

“Me too,” Emmy declares.

Eddie chuckles. “I’m glad. Now let’s talk to the ‘person behind the stand thingy.’”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” 

“Nope.” 

Emilia laughs as they are seated, picking up her kids menu and reading intently. 

“She can read?” 

“She’s a genius, I tell you,” Richie says. “Right, pumpkin?” He ruffles Emilia’s hair. She giggles. 

“She’s got a lot of hair,” Eddie comments absently. “It’s super pretty.”

“Everyone says that. I wonder where she gets it from,” Richie jokes, batting his eyelashes. 

Eddie tries not to blush. “Yeah.” 

“Seriously, like, two years ago, Stan forced us to cut it. Can you believe that?” 

“Well, how long was it?” 

“Not that long.”

“How long?” Eddie asks again, smirking.

“It was all the way down her back, but _still_!” Richie protests. 

“Mickey Mouse,” Emmy says. “Want the Mickey Mouse pancakes, please.”

“Okay, can you tell that to the waiter or waitress?”

“Yeah!” Emmy says enthusiastically. 

“Good! Y’know, I’m kinda feeling pancakes too at the moment…”

“You know it’s a pancake place, right?” Eddie asks, shaking his head.

“Well, yeah, but they have waffles, and omelettes, and stuff like that…”

“Omelettes?” Emmy asks. “What’s that?” 

“It’s eggs cooked with other stuff like cheese and bacon,” Eddie explains. 

“Bacon?” Em asks excitedly. “Please, Daddy. I want omelette.” 

“I don’t know if you’ll like it, berry. Uhm… how about you order the Mickey Mouse pancakes and I’ll get an omelette. You can have some of mine. Deal?” 

“Deal,” Emmy says. 

“Rich, you just said you were feeling pancakes. What if I got an omelette and shared with her? Would that be okay?” 

Richie looks taken aback. “Uh… sure, y’know... sure.” 

Eddie smiles. 

Emilia orders orange juice, and Eddie distracts her as Richie pours half of it out and replaces it with water. 

“Did Bev teach you that?” Eddie asks lowly. 

Richie nods. 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure my mom did that, too. I don’t think I tasted real orange juice until freshman year of college.” 

“Wow, Eds, a real rebel,” Richie says. He blushes when he realizes he slipped on the nickname. “I- oh-” 

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie says easily. “It’s Eddie. Say it with me.” 

“Eddie,” Emilia says. 

“Even your daughter gets it.”

“No, Emmy, that’s not his name. His real name is Eddie Spaghetti, he just doesn’t want people to know that.”

“S’ghetti, s’ghetti!” Emilia exclaims. 

“I should’ve known you’d do that,” Eddie says, sighing and putting his head in his hands. That doesn’t mean he isn’t smiling, though. 

Eddie goes home with a full stomach and cheeks hurting from smiling so much. He really didn’t think he’d have that much fun. 

“So…?” Mike starts when Eddie walks in. 

“Mike, quit gossiping!” Eddie chastises. 

“I’m not!” Mike defends. “How’d it go…?” 

“Dude. You sound like a thirteen-year-old girl.” 

“You’re stalling.”

“It was good,” Eddie finally answers.

“You’re also smiling.”

“It was really good.”

“Would you do it again?” 

Eddie nods.

“Good.”

Eddie pauses. “Michael what did you do?!”

“Nothing, it’s Bev’s fault, go bother her!”

“Wha- why does Bev know? Mike, wait-”

Mike stops and turns around. “Eddie. Everyone knows. I mean, I obviously know the extent of it, because I’m your person, right? The person you tell absolutely everything?” 

Eddie nods. “Bev is Richie’s person. Just… go talk to her. She’s not gonna tell you his shit ‘cuz she’s not a bitch, but, just go talk to her.”

“Beverly Marsh what the fuck did you do?” Eddie asks, walking into the kitchen.

Beverly quickly hangs up the phone and turns around. “What did Mike tell you? And how was breakfast?”

“It was fine. Mike asked if I would do it again and I said yes, and he said good, and then he said you did something. So what the fuck?” 

Beverly laughs. “Eddie, please don’t hate me… and, even if you hate me now, you won’t hate me later, but like-”

Eddie rolls his eyes. 

Bev sighs. “Just keep an open mind. I’m going to take Em for the night tomorrow.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“Why would I-” Eddie’s phone starts ringing. “One second. Hello?”

“Hi.” It’s Richie. Eddie blushes and smiles as soon as he hears his voice, and he hates himself for it, but he just can’t stop. 

“What’s up?” 

“Nothing. I was wondering if you wanted to like, come over tomorrow night or something?” 

“To watch Emilia?” Eddie asks, fully prepared to do that. And then he remembers- _oh._ OH.

“No, um… Bev’s got her for the night. Just… just to watch old movies, y’know? I have a few classics that I haven’t seen in a while, and I know you like them too, and it just so happens I haven’t seen you in a while either,” Richie rambles.

Eddie laughs. “We saw each other an hour ago.”

“I know, I just-”

“Sure, I’ll be there.” He hangs up.

Eddie doesn’t know why he said yes. He does know he’s going to be panicking about it very, very soon, though. 

Well, he does know why. The love he holds for Richie outweighs his brain’s desire to not panic.

“Do you see-” Bev starts. 

Eddie just leaves the room.

“Fuck.” 

“Mike?” Eddie calls, fumbling with his inhaler. 

“Over here,” Mike says from his room. “Did he call?” 

Eddie nods.

“Okay, breathe. You need to calm down. I know this is easier said than done, but if you want to move forward, you can’t panic every time he shows you that he wants to spend time with you. It’s normal for your heart to flutter and for your palms to sweat, but tears and the inability to breathe aren’t normal. Is your breathing under control?”

Eddie nods. “I'm sorry.”

“It’s not your fault your mom was a bitch and instilled the need for that stupid inhaler in your brain since before you could talk,” Mike replies. “And it’s not your fault that you’re getting these panic attacks either. I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. Just let yourself feel things. Here’s a little quote I heard the other day, I… I think it might’ve been a sign.”

“A sign?”

“Yes,” Mike says. “It said ‘love like you’ve never been hurt.’ Now, that doesn’t mean to be reckless. Like if someone has hurt you over, and over, and over again than obviously don’t go running back to them, but-”

“Richie only hurt me once. It was the worst I’d ever been hurt, but that was five years ago… you’re right Mike. I’ll let myself be excited to see him. He’s clean. He’s different. I’m different. Hell, everyone’s different. You think I just need to loosen up? Give this all a chance?” 

Mike nods. “But if you feel uncomfortable, or it’s not what you want anymore, like you don’t want to pursue this relationship, then let him know, and let me know, okay?” 

“Okay,” Eddie says. “Thank you.” 

Eddie lets himself feel, and tries not to worry for the rest of the day. The same can’t be said for the next night, though. 

The doorbell rings, and Eddie hears it through his earbuds. Richie decided to drop Emilia off and then just take Eddie home with him, because it’s easier that way.

Eddie walks downstairs slowly, and Emmy jumps right into his arms before he can get all the way down. 

“Woah,” Eddie breathes, hugging her back. 

“She’s a hugger,” Ben says, laughing. 

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Richie says.

“Don’t be sorry, I’m a hugger, too.” He sets Emilia down and she runs to her Aunt. 

“Her bedtime is-”

“Richie, the only time she ever has a bedtime is when she’s over here,” Bev interrupts, laughing. 

Eddie doesn’t miss the way Emilia makes eye contact with both Stan and Bill. He knows they must vouch for her to stay up later, or something like that. He smiles. Emmy is so adorable. 

Eddie completely forgets about his nerves until he’s in the car, alone with Richie again. 

“Okay, so I got The Shining and Alien, but I know you don’t like horror movies that much, so I also have the entirety of the Star Wars franchise, so we can watch that too…”

“We can watch whatever you’d like,” Eddie says kindly. If he’s being honest with himself, which he doesn’t do very often, but if he is, he wouldn’t mind watching a horror movie. He could snuggle up to Richie, as friends of course, and it wouldn’t be weird. He’d just be… scared. 

His heart jumps in his chest. He acknowledges it, and lets the moment pass without panicking. Wow, is he catching on to feelings? 

“Thanks, wow, uhm… okay, how about we start with Empire Strikes Back, and then The Shining, and we else we wanna watch after that?” 

Eddie nods. “Sounds good.” 

Richie’s house smells like freshly popped popcorn, and sweet things, like- 

“Richie did you make these?” Eddie asks, in disbelief. 

“Yeah…?” Richie answers. “Why?” 

“They look so good,” Eddie says, holding up a frosted sugar cookie. “Can I-”

“Of course. They’re _for_ you.” He laughs a little.

“And they taste as good as they look. Wow.” 

“Yeah, having a little angel with a sweet tooth has really taught me a thing or two about baking. Cooking is different, though. Bev cooks almost all the meals, and on nights that she doesn’t, we have mac and cheese or pizza,” Richie says sheepishly. 

“That is completely okay,” Eddie says, finishing his cookie. He reaches for another. 

Richie beams. 

They watch Empire Strikes Back in relative silence, with Richie’s occasional joke and Eddie’s occasional laughter. 

“Now, get ready to be scared out of your fucking mind,” Richie says, putting in The Shining. “Have you ever actually seen this movie before?” 

“Once,” Eddie answers, remembering. He’s almost surprised Richie doesn’t remember, because he was watching it with him. But Richie was all doped up-

Was. 

He’s not now. He’s not going to be asleep while Eddie cries, and Eddie- Eddie’s not going to cry. 

“ _Shit!_ ” Eddie hisses, somewhere in the middle of the movie. He moves his hands to cover his face.

“Eddie, are you okay?” Richie asks, scooching over to reach him. He wraps an arm around Eddie, comforting him. 

Eddie’s heart nearly beats out of his chest.

“Mhm,” Eddie says nodding. 

Richie pulls his blanket over Eddie’s knees. 

Eddie’s stomach does a somersault. 

“Are you sure? We can watch something else if you-”

“No,” Eddie says abruptly. “This is- this is fine.” He just doesn’t want Richie to stand and leave. 

Eddie snuggles closer into Richie when he can tell he’s supposed to be scared, but he doesn’t do much watching of the movie anymore. He’s way more focused on Richie. 

Richie, and the way his curls fall perfectly on his forehead. Richie, and the way his freckles travel up his nose. Richie, and the way his eyelashes fan over his cheekbones. Richie, and his big, brown eyes that are capable of so much feeling. Richie, and his beautiful pink lips, his lips, his lips, his-

Eddie gasps as Richie looks over at him. 

“What?” Richie asks, smiling. He’s not smirking. He’s not doped up and cocky. 

He’s just _happy_ to be here. 

Eddie’s leaning in before his brain can tell him to _abort the mission, panic, run, stop feeling._

Richie closes his eyes. 

Eddie’s heart tries to beat itself out of his chest. He lets himself feel this emotion.

Richie leans in. 

Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. He lets himself feel.

Their lips touch.

Eddie lets himself feel it _all._

He realizes that before this, he had merely been surviving. _This_ is living. He feels… alive.

They pull away, and brown eyes meet brown for a split second before Eddie crashes his lips into Richie’s again. 

He just can’t take it anymore. 

The panic, the tension, the _love_ , all of it. 

He needs this.

He needs _Richie._

Eddie wraps his arms around Richie’s neck and leans up, pressing his body into Richie’s. Their lips fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, like this is how it was meant to be. 

Eddie lets himself let go, sighing into Richie’s mouth as Richie bites his lip. Eddie tangles his fingers in Richie’s black curls, dragging his fingers down his scalp. Richie moves his hands down to Eddie’s shirt, playing with the hem of it before slipping his hands under, dragging them up Eddie’s back and over his shoulders. Eddie feels goosebumps make their way down his spine, along with Richie’s hands.

“Eds, I-”

“Sh…” Eddie says, kissing the spot right below Richie’s ear. 

He shivers and meets Eddie’s lips once again, bringing his hands out from underneath Eddie’s shirt, and pulling them through his hair instead. Eddie’s hair is normally styled, but today he left it natural, and it’s a wavy mess. 

Richie _loves_ it. He pulls away for air and Eddie hungrily chases his lips before he, too, pulls back, breathless.

“Woah,” Richie breathes, chest heaving. 

“Don’t talk,” Eddie says, his brain unable to catch up with what his body just did. 

Richie nods, looking at Eddie like he’s Richie’s entire world. 

Eddie closes his eyes, and makes out with Richie some more before he has to get up and change the movie. Eddie shoves some popcorn in his mouth because, truth be told, Richie picked him up at seven and he didn’t really have dinner. 

Richie still doesn’t say anything, which is odd in a lot of ways, but also comforting, because that means Eddie doesn’t have to formulate a response.

So while A New Hope plays in the background, they make out lazily until the movie’s over.

“Wanna put in another one?” Richie asks, yawning. 

“I don’t know,” Eddie replies honestly. “And what happened to Richie ‘I Can Go All Night’ Tozier? I guess having a kid really makes you tired, huh?” 

“Nah,” Richie says, sitting up and pushing his glasses up his nose. “I can still go all night.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

Richie puts his head on Eddie’s shoulder, and after a few minutes, Eddie slowly eases Richie into his lap. He drags his fingers down Richie’s scalp, untangling each and every curl until his wild hair is a beautiful, black halo around his head. 

“Richie?” he asks tentatively. 

Nothing but heavy, even breathing. 

Eddie turns off the TV and lies down, forcing his brain to shut up. He listens to Richie breathe and tries to match their breaths, and it must work because after a while, he falls asleep. 

* * *

“Aunty Bev! Aunty Bev!” Emilia exclaims as she runs into Bev and Ben’s room, trying to jump up on their bed.

Bev slugs Ben in the arm, which is code for _you handle the child._

Ben sits and picks her up, setting her down on the covers and rubbing his eyes. “Hi, sweetie, what’s up?” 

“Nobody’s awake?” Emmy questions. 

“Not yet,” Ben says, chuckling. 

“Hungry,” she states. 

“Okay, here, let’s go get some breakfast. What do you want?” 

“Can I have cereal please?” 

“Of course,” Ben replies. He sits her down on the kitchen counter and pours a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, hoping Bev won’t scold him for it later. He starts a pot of coffee and makes a few cups of tea, choosing coffee for himself this morning.

“What’s that?” Em asks through a mouthful of cereal. 

“It’s coffee, and tea,” Ben answers. 

“I know coffee. Tea?” 

“It’s like coffee, except healthy.”

“Daddy should try tea,” Emilia remarks. 

“I think he has,” Ben says, chuckling. “He didn’t like it.”

“Oh.” Em finishes her cereal. “Play with me?” 

“Sure!” Ben says brightly. “What do you want to play?”

“Me and Daddy always play princess and pirates, but do you guys have the costume…?” Emmy asks. 

“No, sorry,” Ben replies. 

“It’s okay, can we build instead? Aunty Bev got me those blocks, and I packed some in my bag.”

“Sure,” Ben says, grinning. Building is one of his favorite things to do as an adult, and sharing that with his honorary niece through toy blocks is very special to him. 

“Woah,” Stan says, walking into the living room with a cup of tea. “What did you build, Emilia?” 

“We builded a huge castle, and the princesses live inside there! See?” She makes her dolls wave from inside the castle. 

“That’s great, Em,” Stan says. “Can I help?” He sets his tea down on the coffee table and starts building an addition to the castle. 

“So, should I g-g-go get breakfast or…?” Bill asks from the doorway, Mike standing not too far behind him.

“No, Bev can get it this time,” Stan says. “We really need your help on this part, don’t we, Em?” 

“Uncle Bill! We need you to build the art room, and Uncle Mike, there’s also a movie theater that needs to happen, these princesses are busy girls!” 

“Privileged is more like it,” Stan mumbles dryly. 

Ben slugs him in the arm, laughing.

Bev finally walks into the living room at around ten o’clock, to see that her entire living space has been invaded by foam blocks. 

“Surprise!” Ben says, smiling. He carefully stands and steps over their creation to give her a kiss on the cheek. 

“Where are Richie and Eddie?” Mike asks a little later. 

“Dunno,” Bev replies absentmindedly.

“Richie’s house, I’d assume,” Ben says. “Richie’s probably still asleep. I don’t blame him. With this little firecracker keeping him up late and waking him early, he must be tired.”

“Do you think they’re o-o-okay?” Bill asks. “It’s n-n-not like E-e-eddie to s-s-stay out t-t-that late, y’know?” 

“I think they’re having a great time, if you know what I mean,” Stan says. 

“Stan!” Mike scolds. “I’ll shoot Eddie a text.” 

“He still hasn’t r-r-responded?” Bill asks, around an hour later.

“Nope,” Mike says, popping the ‘p.’

“Okay, Ben and I are going to drive over there, give Emilia back to him, we all know she misses him.” Em’s hugging Ben tightly, and she’s ready to go home. She loves her Aunt and Uncles more than she can possibly say, but at the end of the day, or in this case, morning, she misses her dad.

Ben sets her up in her carseat in the back of their car, and starts driving to Richie’s house. 

* * *

“Oh my gosh,” Bev says, snickering behind her hand. “This is priceless.”

“Daddy!” Em yells, and Ben quickly shushes her. 

“Sh… he’s asleep right now.”

“So?” Em asks. That’s never stopped her before. 

“You can wake him in a second sweetheart.”

Bev pulls out her phone and takes a few pictures. Richie and Eddie are tangled on the couch together like they’re 13 again. Richie’s head is on Eddie’s chest, Eddie’s arm slung over his back. 

“Boys, time to wake up,” Bev says in a sing-song voice. “Okay, Ben, let her go.”

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” Em yells. “Eddie!” 

Eddie shoots up, squinting against the light of the room. Richie merely nuzzles his head further into Eddie’s chest, clearly used to being woken up this way. 

“Richie, wake up,” Eddie murmurs, hitting Richie lightly in the side. 

Richie sits, reaching blindly for his glasses. “Hey, guys… what’s up?” Em jumps into his arms. “Oof.” 

“Did you two have fun last night?” Bev asks with a knowing smirk. 

Eddie’s cheeks turn red, and Richie just looks away. They’re both quiet. 

“Okay…” Ben says. “Well, we just came to drop Emmy off. She missed you a lot, as you can probably tell. And Eddie, we can give you a ride home if you need-”

“Yeah, thanks,” Eddie says immediately. “I’ll see you later, Richie.” 

“Later,” Richie says, looking down. 

Eddie feels bad, but he has to leave. What’s he going to do? Stay there and talk about their past with his daughter sitting there, peacefully playing with dolls?

No. This is the way it has to be done. 


	6. Everything Has Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now  
> I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now  
> I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now  
> I just wanna know you, know you, know you  
> 'Cause all I know is we said hello  
> And your eyes look like coming home  
> All I know is a simple name  
> And everything has changed  
> All I know is, you held the door  
> You'll be mine and I'll be yours  
> All I know since yesterday, yeah  
> Is everything has changed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys!  
> seriously, go listen to everything has changed by taylor swift because it sums up this chapter pretty well :)  
> thanks for all the kudos and comments so far, they always put a smile on my face!  
> this chapter is a bit of a ride... we got angst, fluff, and a little bit of kissing... haha  
> i hope you enjoy :)

It’s been three days.

Three days since he went over to Richie’s house, made out with him on his couch, and then left, barely saying goodbye.

Richie has called him four times.

He won’t answer. 

Both Mike and Bev have tried to get him to tell them about what happened that night.

He won’t talk. 

He’s been holed up in his room for the past three days, only leaving to shower and eat, and even then, avoiding _everyone._ Even Bev is concerned, and she’s the most care-free person in their group.

“Eddie, bud, you need to come downstairs,” Mike says quietly from the doorway. 

“Why?” Eddie croaks, voice rough from disuse and lack of water.

“We’re all having breakfast. Bev made pancakes, that’s your favorite. We miss you, Eddie. Come downstairs, please?” Mike asks hopefully. 

Eddie pulls the covers tighter around himself. “I can’t. I already ate this morning, after my run.” 

That’s a lie, but Eddie _can’t_ eat. He feels sick. 

“Eddie, what _happened_?” Mike asks for what might be the millionth time, sitting down on Eddie’s bed. 

Eddie sighs and rolls onto his back. “Mike. Please, go enjoy breakfast. Nothing happened.”

“Eddie, that’s bullshit. Something happened that night at Richie’s house, and you refuse to talk to anyone about it. And you know what happens when you don’t talk, eventually-”

“I explode,” Eddie finishes. “I know. I don’t want to talk, so please go away before I explode on you. Please.” 

Mike sighs, standing up. “I’m not even suggesting it’s me that you talk to this time. I know we’re not going to get anywhere.” Mike picks up Eddie’s phone and scrolls through his contact list. 

Eddie sits up. “What the fuck are you-”

“I think you need to talk to _him_ ,” Mike says simply, handing Eddie his phone. 

Eddie looks at his phone in disbelief. Mike wants him to call Richie. 

And Mike has already left. 

_Fuck._

* * *

Richie stares at the wall blankly, Emilia’s morning cartoons playing in the background. He can’t think. He’s trying to write, but absolutely nothing good is coming to mind. It doesn’t help that he hasn’t slept in almost 48 hours, but y’know, what is he supposed to do?

Every time he closes his eyes he sees Eddie. Eddie, and his baby brown eyes; perfect, gentle hands; messy, wavy, hair; white teeth, and soft lips. Richie brings a hand up to his mouth, rubbing a finger over his own lips. 

He kissed Eddie just three days ago, and hasn’t seen or talked to him since. 

Not that he hasn’t tried. He’s tried a lot, actually, to the point where he had to stop because he didn’t want Eddie to get annoyed with him. Well, any more than he already, obviously is. 

“Daddy? Are you okay?” Emilia asks sweetly, sitting on the couch next to Richie. 

“Yes, I’m just a little tired is all,” he answers, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Why?” Emilia asks, in typical four-year-old fashion. 

“I didn’t sleep too well last night,” Richie replies, cleaning his glasses on his shirt and putting them back on. The world is still slightly blurry. Oh well. 

“Why?” she asks again. 

“I’m not sure,” he lies. He is _exactly_ sure, and he feels horrible lying to his daughter. 

She’s quiet for a while, and he thinks that if he’s lucky, he can nap for twenty minutes or so while this show finishes, but then she looks at him again, and he can see the gears in her little mind turning.

“Spaghetti?” 

He pretends he doesn’t know what she’s talking about. “Emmy,” he starts, using the nickname _Eddie_ gave her. “You can’t have spaghetti at one o’clock, silly girl,” he says, reaching over to tickle her slightly. 

She giggles. “No, Daddy, not _spaghetti,_ where is Eddie?”

Richie’s heart sinks. She got attached. His little girl got attached to his ex-boyfriend, his first and only love, and now he’s gone, and it’s not like Richie can be mad at him for leaving, he didn’t even leave, there was no… agreement, they just hung out, and kissed a little, and haven’t talked to each other in three days. 

That’s all. 

No big deal.

Except for their long and complicated history together, but who has time to worry about things that happened five years ago, huh?

“Eddie went home.” 

Richie picks Emilia up and holds her tight to his chest, snuggling deeper into the side of the couch. He rests his head on the arm-rest for what feels like a second, before his phone rings, jolting him out of whatever state of peace he was in. 

“Hello?” he answers, sitting up, and situating Emilia next to him. 

“Hey, Richie…” _Eddie_. “Can we talk?”

Richie’s heart sinks and jumps, and his mind wanders, exploring all the ways this could go wrong, and all the ways it could go right. 

“Of course,” he answers hastily, not wanting Eddie to get fed up and leave again. “Wait… now?” Richie asks, almost panicking.

“No,” Eddie says quickly, sounding equally as breathless. 

“Oh, okay.” Richie tries not to sound too relieved. 

“Uh… when… when would be a good time for you?” 

“Well, I’ll see how early I can get Emmy to bed-”

“Hey!” 

“Oh shh, you’re fine,” Richie says. “Anyway, any time after that works, honestly.” 

“Okay, how about eight thirty?” Eddie asks tentatively. 

“Sounds perfect.” 

Eddie hangs up. 

Richie decides not to tell Emilia that Eddie is coming over, because then she’ll want to see him and won’t want to go to bed, and it is already enough hassle getting her to bed before ten o’clock. Seriously, she baffles doctors at this point. Some toddlers go to bed at like, six. Not Emilia. She’s a little firecracker, alright. 

_His_ little firecracker.

He ruffles her hair. 

“What braid do you want today, kiddo?” 

“Dutch!” she exclaims happily. 

“Okay, go get your brush and hairbands, please. Do you want any ribbons?” 

Emmy nods. “Be right back!” 

He smiles. 

She comes rushing back in no time, with two brown hairbands, her brush, and two red ribbons.

He works the tangles out of her hair slowly, and she is extremely patient with him. Most four-year-olds would squirm, maybe even yell, but she stays still and lets him work the knots out of her curls. 

“Good job, Emmy,” Richie says quietly, tucking a curl behind her ear and starting the braid. “You’re so good at this.” 

“What do you mean? I not doing anything!” she says, giggling. 

“Exactly,” he says, joking around. She laughs. “I’m glad you’re not squirming and running around.”

“It’s braid time. Running around time is later.”

“You’re the best daughter ever, did you know that?”

“You’re the best daddy.”

Richie’s heart melts at her smile, because she truly _believes_ that, with all her heart. He feels a tear come to his eye. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t-

It falls. He quickly wipes it away. He helps her up and turns her around. “There. You’re so pretty.”

“Thank you.” She curtsies a little sloppily, and then runs off, probably to change into one of the many princess dresses Bev has gotten her over the years.

The doorbell rings.

Richie gets up to answer it, a little confused because he isn’t expecting anyone except Eddie at eight thirty, and as far as he can tell, it’s still only one forty-five. 

“Stan? What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Well hello to you, too,” Stan says sarcastically. 

“Uncle Stan!” Emilia exclaims, running to meet him at the door. She jumps into his arms. 

“Hi, Emmy, what’s up?” 

“The sky,” she replies, giggling. 

“I wonder who taught her that one,” Stan says, holding her on his hip. 

“Guilty,” Richie says, raising his hand. “Well come on in, my good friend, come on in. What brings you here on this fine afternoon? Would you like tea, or water? Whatever you fancy, I’m sure we’ve got it,” Richie says in a British accent. “Except peanut butter. We ran out of peanut butter because _someone_ likes to eat it right out of the jar.” He looks pointedly at Emilia. 

“Daddy, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You eat peanut butter out of the jar all the time!” 

“Richie, come on. We both know Bev would never let Em eat anything straight out of the jar.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” Richie shrugs. “Worth a shot. Seriously, what are you doing here, though? Isn’t everyone except for me supposed to be hanging out at Bev and Ben’s for like, the rest of the summer?”

“Yeah, but here’s the thing.” 

“What?” Richie asks. 

Stan sets Emmy down on the counter and covers her ears with his hands. “What the hell did you do to Eddie that night? He has been so weird lately, and I’m worried, to be honest. He won’t talk to anyone, not Mike, not Bill, not anyone. What happened?” 

Emilia pries Stan’s hands off her ears. “What?” 

“Nothing, Em,” Stan replies easily. 

“Aw, I wanna know…” She pouts. 

“You will, probably. Soon.”

“Not now?”

“Soon,” Stan says again. “Hopefully.” He looks at Richie pointedly.

“What?” 

“How long has she been watching cartoons today?” 

“Not long,” Richie answers. “We had breakfast, and she built some more with those foam blocks, then we played dolls… I think she was only watching them for like… 20 minutes in total.”

“Okay, cool. Emilia, what show do you wanna watch?” 

“Bubble Guppies!” she exclaims, running into the other room. “Please, please, please!” 

“Of course, Emmy,” Stan says, grabbing the remote and changing the channel. “Here you go.” 

“Thanks!” She throws her arms around him in gratitude. 

“What, no hug for me?” Richie asks, trying to be funny, but also wanting a hug.

Emilia hugs him too, and then finds a stray bobo on the coffee table. She puts it in her mouth, and Richie doesn’t have the heart to scold her. He knows Bev says she’s getting too old to use a binki, but he just can’t find it in himself to take it away from her. 

Stan and Richie find themselves back in the kitchen. Stan starts making a cup of tea, and pours a glass of water for Richie. 

“Sure you can use my kitchen to make tea, Stan. Of course. It’s not like this is my house or anything.”

“Thanks so much, Richie,” Stan says, warming his hands with the tea. Richie knows he has poor circulation, and even though it’s June, his hands and feet always feel like December. 

“So, you said you’re worried about Eddie?” Richie asks.

“Yes. I need you to tell me what happened that night.”

“No can do, Staniel,” Richie says, trying to be nonchalant. “That’s Eddie’s business too.”

Stan is quiet. “Oh my- did you two have sex?” 

“WHAT?” Richie asks loudly, brain barely computing that sentence. “No! No, Stan. We did not have sex. No.” 

“Okay.”

“No.” 

“I said okay. Then what happened? Because it sure as hell wasn’t nothing.”

“Stan, I already told you I can’t tell you. Look, I know the Losers… fuck. I know… I know that when Eddie and I were together, everyone loved us together, and you guys were all very invested in our relationship, maybe even more so than I was-” Richie winces, hurt by his own actions. He was such a dick. “-and that’s all good and fun, but Eddie’s and my relationship is just that, ours. Whatever needs to happen will happen. Whatever we need to work out, we’ll work out. So please. You have to let us do that.”

“He’s not answering your calls,” Stan states. 

“How the hell do you even know I’ve called him, huh?”

“I just do. How are you supposed to work things out if he won’t talk?”

“Trust me, Stan. I do enough talking for all of us.”

Stan rolls his eyes.

“Stan, just let us be. Please. You have to. I know you’re worried for him. I am too. But we’ve known him for… how long now? Seventeen years? And you know what happens when you pry.” 

“He just gets further and further away.”

“And if I recall, you’re like that too,” Richie says flatly, looking Stan in the eye. 

Stan looks down. 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, that’s just how things are sometimes.” 

“Yeah. Okay. I just love you guys both so much, and Bev wasn’t about to drive her ass over here again, Mike is normally everyone’s therapist, but he’s been down in the dumps lately too… I just want everything to be okay again. I want all seven of us together at the same time, without awkwardness or tears.” 

“Eight,” Richie corrects, pointing into the other room.

“Eight.”

“I want that too, trust me. It might take some awkwardness and tears to get to that point though. And that’s the part I’m dreading, but you know me, I cure awkwardness all the time with my charm and wit!” Richie jokes.

“More like you create it,” Stan shoots back.

“Thanks for coming over,” Richie says. “Seriously. It lets me know that you guys… that you still care.”

“Of course we care,” Stan says. “And you are welcome to come over any time.”

Richie grins. 

“Uncle Stan gone?” Em asks, not looking up from her show.

“Yes,” Richie says, turning off the TV.

“Hey!”

“Hey yourself, missy,” Richie says playfully. “That’s enough TV for one day. You need to clean your room.”

“Help me?”

“Always.” Richie pauses, thinking about it. “Well, at least until you turn 10.” 

Emilia doesn’t hear that last part. 

* * *

“Eddie, where are you going?” Mike asks, when Eddie is just about to leave the house. He’s wearing simple sweats and a t-shirt, which he never wears. “And what are you wearing?” 

“I’m trying something new okay? And I’m just going… I’m going on a little walk, okay?” 

“Okay,” Mike says. He turns around and smiles, hoping he’s right with his guess on Eddie’s actual whereabouts. 

Eddie texts Richie when he gets to the door instead of knocking, just in case Emilia is already in bed. 

_Be right there. She’s almost asleep._

Eddie smiles. 

“Hi,” Richie says, opening the door. His curly black hair is slightly damp from the shower he must’ve taken earlier, and he’s wearing a similar get-up to Eddie: sweats and a comfy t-shirt. 

A Led Zeppelin t-shirt to be exact.

 _The_ Led Zeppelin t-shirt.

Eddie’s about to break down right there.

“Hey,” Eddie manages to get out before he takes Richie in a bone-crushing hug.

“Jeez, Eds, you could give Emmy a run for her money,” Richie manages, with the breath that wasn’t knocked out of him.

“Shut up, dickwad.”

Richie takes Eddie’s hand and leads him to the couch.

They sit down and Richie looks at Eddie expectantly, dark brown eyes wide behind his childish glasses. 

_Fuck._

Eddie kinda sorta forgot about the part where he has to talk about his feelings, even though he’s been preparing, and freaking out, and rewriting speeches almost all day.

“Hi,” Eddie says like an idiot.

“Hey. Did you wanna start or…” 

“IthinkI’mstillinlovewithyouevenafteralltheseyears,” Eddie rushes out, all in one breath, as one word.

“Woah, Eddie, slow down. I didn’t understand any of what you just said.”

“Good,” Eddie says panickedly. He stands up, looking for an exit. “Uh… uh…”

Richie grabs his hand, and pulls him back down to the couch. Richie pulls him out of his head and down to Earth. 

“You don’t have to run anymore, Eddie. It’s okay.” 

Eddie stops thinking, and just looks at Richie, at his deep brown eyes and caring gaze.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah.”

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” Eddie repeats. “I wanted… I want to talk about what happened three nights ago?” _Damn it, why did that come out as a question?_ “And… and the five years before that, if… if that’s okay with you.” 

Richie looks taken aback. “Yes, of course.”

“If we want to move on… even just as friends… we have to-” Eddie pauses, trying to find the right words. “We have to unpack all of this baggage first.” Eddie sees Richie’s face fall when he says the word ‘friends.’ “Not that I want to be just friends, because that would be very fucking hard, but I- but we need to start somewhere, okay?”

“Okay.”

It’s quiet, until Richie speaks again. 

“If we’re really doing this, can I just say I am so _fucking_ sorry. So sorry.” Tears make themselves known behind Richie’s eyes, and he fights them to the best of his emotional, sleep-deprived ability. A few still manage to fall. “Words can’t express how sorry I am. You didn’t deserve any of the shit that happened to you, baggage that you still obviously carry after all these years… you’re amazing, Eddie. I completely trashed and ruined you, and for what? For what? Nothing!” Richie’s voice raises a little, and he chokes up, another tear falling. He swallows.”I’m so sorry for what I did to you.” He wipes his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself. I can only pray that you can.” 

Eddie doesn’t answer, and Richie looks up to see him battling tears of his own.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” Eddie says brokenly. 

Richie wants to hug him. 

He doesn’t. 

“I’m so sorry,” Richie mumbles again after a while. 

Eddie doesn’t say ‘it’s okay,’ because it’s not. Nothing about this is okay. 

He says this, instead. “It’s going to be okay.” And that’s true. It will be, one day. “How long?” Eddie asks quietly.

“I’ve missed you since you left, and even more so since I got sober.” 

_I’ve loved you forever._

“And how long have you been…”

“Almost four years now,” Richie answers proudly. “And did _you_ -”

“Yes, Richie. _Gosh._ Every single minute of every single _day_ I missed you, I saw you everywhere, I couldn’t even escape you in my dreams.”

“I’m here now,” Richie offers, as if that will make everything better.

Eddie laughs wetly. “I’m so glad.”

“And I’m not a dick anymore.”

“Yes, you are,” Eddie argues. “A lovable dick.”

“Good to know you love my dick so much, Eddie-”

“Beep beep, asshole!” Eddie says, hitting Richie lightly on the arm. “So… we’ve missed each other.” 

“Yes.”

_And we still love each other._

They sit in silence for a while, and then Richie can’t take it any longer. “Is this… are we okay?” 

Eddie looks at him for a minute. “I’m not sure. All I know is… I missed you so much sometimes, it physically _hurt._ ” 

“Me too, Eddie. Me too. But now… we can be with each other now… in whatever way that is, as friends, as more… in whatever way you’ll let me, I want to be in your life, Eddie. I want to know you.” 

“And I you, Richie. I wanna… I wanna be with you, be with you and your daughter, I want to _know_ you and your daughter. I want to hang out with our friends together, as one big group, lucky seven, just like it used to be.” 

“And you can,” Richie says. “Now… tell me about your life, Eddie Kaspbrak.” He lies down on the couch, crossing his feet at the ankles and propping his head up on his hand.

“Oh, gosh. Where do I even start?” Eddie asks helplessly, laughing a little because Richie looks like a teenage girl about to gossip. 

“Start at the very beginning,” Richie sings quietly.

“A very good place to start,” Eddie finishes. “I hate you.”

“You like me,” Richie says, carefully replacing the word love. He doesn’t quite know how he feels about that word… or if he even _feels_ that word.

“I went to college and majored in psychology,” Eddie starts.

“Of course,” Richie says, sitting up to show he’s engaged.

“I roomed with Mike and we had a really good time, he helped me through… you, I guess, not really getting over you, because I never really got over you, but he helped me accept and process my emotions. We ordered pizza and watched Netflix when things got to be too heavy or too much for my brain. We didn’t go to parties too much, but there was… there was this one party, uhm-”

“Oh dear, do I want to know?” Richie jokes.

Eddie smiles briefly. “Mike and his girl, Julie, well… she wasn’t his girl at the time, but they both really liked each other… uhm… Julie invited him to a party and he wanted to take me with him, since I rarely left the house for anything other than classes or groceries. I said I’d go and I… I met a boy.”

“You met a boy,” Richie repeats, the words tasting weird on his tongue.

“He fell in love with me,” Eddie says, his mind drifting back to those times. “And I loved him, too. But I wasn’t _in_ love with him. And… I told him that, too.”

“Wow, Eds. A real heartbreaker.”

“Well, the heartbreakers are usually the ones with broken hearts.”

Richie’s face falls. “Sorry.”

“It was tough, and that was right before we graduated. I got wasted at one party after that… that was a rough night. Mike was always there. And, then… we came home. I saw you again. And I’m… I’m seeing you. Not like that, but-”

“I know,” Richie cuts him off, not wanting him to get lost in his own head. “You didn’t make many friends?” 

“Well, we hung out with Julie’s group a lot, but I never really got close to anyone. I don’t think I can ever get close to anyone, not in the way I’m close with all of you guys.”

“I completely understand. So what are you planning to do with that psychology degree, Eds?” 

“Remember Ms. Loughty?” 

“That old hag?” Richie laughs. “Of course.”

“I’m gonna take her place.” 

“Jeez, Eds, the way you said that makes you sound like a murderer.”

“Shut up.”

“That’s great. Wow… that’s so great.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says breathily. “Now you go.”

“Hm?”

“Your turn. I want to know all of it. Tell me about your life, Richie.”

“Oh… I’m not sure you want to…”

“Richie,” Eddie says firmly, placing a hand on Richie’s knee. “I can take it. Just talk. I want to hear your voice, and I want to know you again.”

Richie sighs, and relaxes under Eddie’s touch. “After you left, shit got really bad. I dove deeper and deeper into drugs, and I was hanging out with the wrong kinds of people, sleeping around, y’know… nine months after that, a woman showed up at my doorstep with a bundle. She dropped it in my arms and then left. I didn’t even know inside the bundle of blankets was a baby, I thought Em was more drugs, or something. I chased after the woman, and all she ever said to me was ‘It’s yours.’ That was it.”

“What the fuck?” Eddie says. “What kind of mother just leaves her own child like that?” 

“Apparently Emmy’s mother did. But that’s okay. She’s got the best dad in the whole wide world. According to her, at least.”

Eddie smiles. “Okay, continue.”

“So then Emmy starts crying, and I didn’t know anything other than ‘get wasted, pass out, repeat’ at this point in my life, so that’s what I did. I got drunk to the point of tears, and then called Bev because Emmy just wouldn’t stop crying. I was eighteen years old, I didn’t know what the fuck I was supposed to do. Bev and I were both in shock, but then we ran to the store to buy pacifiers, y’know the ones with the hole in the middle?”

Eddie nods.

“The minute I put it in her mouth, she relaxed, and that’s when I knew: all of this was _meant_ to happen. We found out she was a girl shortly after, and the Losers have helped me juggle her, work, and adulting for the past four years. Stan and Bill take her when I have gigs, Bev and Ben take her when they want to, and she hasn’t even asked why she doesn’t have a Mom yet.”

“Do you know what you’re going to say when she does?” Eddie asks quietly. 

“Yes. I’m gonna tell her she has a Daddy, Eddie, Aunty Bev, Uncle Ben, Uncle Mike, Uncle Stan, and Uncle Bill, and that’s all she needs.”

“That’s beautiful, Richie.”

“Thanks. It’s been rough, though. Some nights were really hard, and I wished someone else was living here with me… someone I loved, someone who could help me raise my daughter, but…” 

“I’m here now,” Eddie blurts before he can stop himself.

Richie stops. “Are you saying…?”

“No, but I can be saying that, if you want me to.”

“Eddie I would love it if you lived here, but…”

“I know, it might be a little soon and sudden, especially for Em, but I have missed you so much, and talking to you is just making me feel so invigorated, alive, awake, all that good shit. Talking to you and knowing that you aren’t an asshole anymore, that it isn’t just some fantasy I created in my fucked up brain, it makes me so happy.”

“And I love talking to you when I’m not… y’know…”

“Being an asshole?”

“Yeah,” Richie says sheepishly. “Maybe we could start with you… spending the night every other night, or every other other night? You could… you could spend the night tonight.”

“I’d like that,” Eddie says, grinning. 

Richie grins right back.”But anyway, that’s pretty much it. I have a baby girl, and I’ve been raising her alongside gigs and hanging out with the Losers every week as a whole, and every day separately.”

“And I went to college, I’m apartment and job hunting, and have been missing you through all of it.”

Richie sits up, and Eddie puts an arm around him, burying his face in Richie’s shoulder.

“I’ve missed you so, so much,” he says, his voice thick with unshed tears.

“Oh, Eddie, what’s wrong?” Richie asks, putting an arm around his shoulder in turn. “I’m sorry. That was a stupid question. Lots of things are wrong at the moment-”

“I just-” Eddie hiccups. “I can’t believe I’m actually here, with you, and you missed me too, and you’re _you_ again- you’re not… you’re not drugged.” Eddie holds his breath, biting back another sob.

“Eddie, don’t do that, sh… you can let it out, it’s just me. You’re right. It’s me. Just me.” 

“Do you mind if I ask… what… why did you do drugs, anyway?” Richie flinches, and Eddie feels it. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t-”

“I thought… I was an idiot. I was a selfish, low-lying, scumbag piece of shit. I thought I wasn’t good enough for you, and I thought you didn’t love me, and I thought that I was never gonna get where I needed to go in life.”

Eddie gasps. “You thought I didn’t- I’m so sorry Richie-”

“ _No_ ,” Richie says firmly. “I will not allow you to apologize for my fucked up way of thinking. It was _not_ your fault. It was purely mine. And the hallucinations from the drugs only made it much, much worse. Honestly, I’m glad you broke up with me and got yourself out of there while you still could. If it weren’t for Bev, I probably would be-”

“Dead. Right now,” Eddie says through tears. “I know. I thought about that every day for a solid year before Mike told me that you weren’t dead. I didn’t want to hear anything else, all he told me is that you were alive, and that was enough for me. Richie, I did love you. I loved you so much.”

_Love._

_Do._

_Present Tense._

Richie hears it in past tense, though. He accepts it. It’s going to take them a while to get back to where they were. 

Eddie puts his head on Richie’s shoulder. Richie looks down at him.

“Can I kiss you?” Eddie blurts.

Richie nods, stunned. 

Eddie tilts his head up, opening his soft lips to kiss the side of Richie’s mouth. Richie opens his mouth in turn, tilting his head down and placing his hands on the small of Eddie’s back, eliciting a small gasp from Eddie. 

“Is that okay?” Richie asks softly. 

“Mhm,” Eddie hums, cupping the back of Richie’s neck to pull him back down again. He brings his hands down to Richie’s shoulders. Richie plays with the hem of Eddie’s shirt before daring to bring his hands underneath it. Eddie shudders. “Your hands are cold.”

Richie shoves them up Eddie’s armpits.

“Ah!” Eddie shrieks. “Wait-to-go idiot! You ruined the moment! Congratulations! Here’s an award!”

“Sh!” Richie hisses. “You’ll wake Emilia!” 

“Sorry!” Eddie whisper-shouts. He leans back against the couch. “C’mere.”

“What?”

“Sit between my legs.”

“Only if you insist, my dear Edward.”

“Oh shut up. I’m going to give you a massage. Your shoulders feel tight.”

“Damn, really?”

“Yes, now shut the fuck up before I change my mind.”

Richie sits back, between Eddie’s legs. Eddie rubs his hands together to warm them, and then starts working through the knots in Richie’s shoulders. 

“Damn, where did you learn to do this, Eds?” Richie questions, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. 

“Not sure, really. Maybe I picked up a thing or two after my mom forced me to massage her back almost every day of my childhood.” 

“Disgusting,” Richie mumbles. “I do _not_ like that woman.”

“Well, good news for you, she doesn’t like you either.”

“Mm…” Richie replies, as Eddie starts working on a particularly tough knot.

“Jeez, Richie, what are you doing, moving furniture around all day?” 

“Emmy likes piggy back rides…”

“And you’re stressed out,” Eddie says after a while, working his hands through Richie’s hair and massaging his scalp. Richie’s breathing gets heavy, and deep. “You falling asleep on me, Tozier?”

“Mm? Mm-mm…” Richie hums, eyes still closed. 

Eddie chuckles. “You’re so adorable. I still can’t believe I’m here with you.” Richie doesn’t respond. “Alright. C’mon. Let’s go to bed. I’m not letting you sleep on the couch again.” He taps Richie’s shoulder until he’s slightly coherent, and then helps him off the couch. 

“Jeez, Eds, you drugged me off your very presence,” Richie mumbles. 

“No, I just got rid of some of the stress you’ve no doubt been feeling over these past five years.”

“I haven’t slept in forty-eight hours,” Richie says out of the blue. 

“Well that explains a lot,” Eddie says, smirking. “Hey… it’s okay if I sleep in here, right?”

“Of course,” Richie says, stretching. “Do you want the right side or the left side?”

“Well… which side do you normally-” Richie looks at him, and Eddie starts laughing. “Yeah, okay. Uhm… right…? I guess?”

“Okay. Lights on or off?”

“Off. Oh fuck, Richie.”

“What?” Richie asks, immediately alert.

“Do you have an extra toothbrush?” 

“Yes, they’re in the bottom cabinet in the bathroom.”

“Thank you.” Eddie brushes his teeth and fixes his hair a little bit, but not too much, since all he’s going to do after this is go to bed. 

Eddie gets in bed as quietly as he can, and is almost asleep when Richie rolls over and throws an arm around his waist. Eddie freezes and blushes. It’s not like he’s uncomfortable, it’s just… jeez, he’d forgotten what sharing a bed is like. He lets himself sink back into Richie and the mattress, trying to even out his breathing. It works. 

Somehow, in the middle of the night, their hands find each other. They don’t let go. 

* * *

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!”

Eddie opens his eyes blearily, slightly disoriented. 

“Eddie?” Emilia lowers her voice a bit, confused. 

“Yeah. Hi, Emmy,” Eddie says softly, remembering Richie’s claim about not having slept in 48 hours. 

“Daddy?” 

“Yeah, he’s sleeping right now. Do you want breakfast?” 

Emilia nods. Eddie squints and glances at the clock, rubbing his eyes. It’s seven thirty.

“Okay, what do you want for breakfast?”

“Uh… waffles?” Emilia asks hopefully. 

“Sure,” Eddie replies, walking into the kitchen. “Okay, can you show me where the ingredients are?”

They end up making chocolate chip waffles from scratch, and they turn out very good if Eddie says so himself. Eddie also finds a package of bacon in the fridge, along with a few raw eggs. He shows Emmy how to scramble them, and lets her stir, all the while keeping her a safe distance away from the heat of the stove. He sets her up with a plate and an appropriate amount of syrup and then goes back to the bacon. He gasps when he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist.

“Richie?”

“Who else would I be, dumbass?” 

“Eddie’s not a dumb ass, Daddy! He’s a smart ass.”

Eddie laughs so hard he can’t breathe. He even has to step away from the bacon. “Oh my gosh. She did not just-”

Richie is caught in his own fit of laughter. “I taught her well.” 

Eddie makes Richie a plate as well, finishing up the bacon. He makes himself a plate and sits down to eat with them. 

“Eddie! This is so good. Be careful, or I’m going to have you cook for us every day,” Richie jokes. 

“I’d love to,” Eddie says, smiling. 

“Eddie! Eddie!” Emilia exclaims, hopping down from her stool. “Play with me?”

“You don’t have to-” Richie starts.

“What are we playing, Emmy?”

“Barbies?” she asks. 

“Sure!” 

Richie finishes up his plate and then washes everyone’s dishes. He walks into the living room to see Emilia holding up a Barbie doll for him to take. 

“What’s her name?” he asks. 

“Uhm… she doesn’t have one yet. How about… Lily? Like the flower?” 

“Whatever you want, sugarplum.” 

“Lily, come inside for dinner!” Emmy yells as the ‘mom’ doll. 

“Okay,” Richie says, in a higher voice for the doll.

“Daddy, that’s not what she sounds like,” Emilia says, giggling. 

“What about this?” Richie tries, putting on a more goofy accent. Emilia shakes her head, laughing. “This?” he asks, Southern this time.

“No, Richie, you’re doing it wrong,” Eddie says. “Like this,” he demonstrates, doing his own version of a Barbie-doll voice.

“Exactly!” Emilia exclaims. “Eddie’s got it! Good job!”

They play Barbies for a while longer, before Emilia’s short attention span gives out. 

“Daddy! Braid time! Braid time!” 

“What do we say?” Richie asks.

“Please can it be braid time now?”

“What’s braid time?” Eddie asks curiously, grinning. 

“Just what it sounds like,” Richie replies simply. “I braid her hair. What do you want today, pumpkin?” 

“French,” she says. “I’ll go get my ribbons.”

“How did you, of all people, learn to braid?” Eddie asks incredulously. 

“Beverly and YouTube, but mostly Beverly,” Richie says. 

Emilia sits on a small chair in front of Richie, and he starts sectioning off her hair. Eddie watches Richie pull each strand into two beautiful French braids that fall to Emilia’s upper back. 

“Wow, you’re really good,” Eddie says.

“Thanks,” Richie says, blushing.

“He’s the best,” Emilia declares, hugging Richie. 

“No you’re the best,” Richie says back.

“No you,” Emilia argues.

“You!” 

“You!”

“You know what this means?” Richie asks suspiciously. “Tickle fight!”

Emilia squeals and runs, Richie chasing after her. He picks her up just as they reach the couch again, and starts tickling her mercilessly. 

“C’mon Eddie, why don’t you join in the fun?” Richie asks over Emilia’s laughter. He whispers something in her ear.

Eddie thinks he knows where this is going.

“Get Eddie!” they scream in unison.

Yep. 

He lets it happen, and enjoys laughing together with two of his favorite people in the world.

They finally back off, and Richie sits back for a moment. 

“I haven’t been tickled in years,” Eddie remarks.

“Well get used to it.” Richie winks.

Eddie huffs and smacks him indignantly. 

The doorbell rings. 

Eddie stands, and Richie pushes him back down. “I’ll get it.” 

Eddie picks up Emilia and holds her on his lap while she watches TV, tucking a few curls that escaped her braids behind her ear. He hears a few frantic voices at the door. He stands, Emilia on his hip, and walks over there to investigate.

“What the hell is- Eddie!” Mike exclaims, running over to him. He hugs Eddie so tightly, Eddie can barely breathe. 

“Uncle Mike!” 

“Hi, Emmy,” Mike says gently.

“Hi, Mike, what’s-”

“Eddie, we didn’t know where you were,” Bev explains, cutting him off. 

“And neither of you would answer our calls or texts,” Ben says. 

“We assumed you were over here,” Stan starts. “But didn’t know for sure, so we came to make sure.”

“W-w-we w-w-w-were really w-w-w-worried,” Bill stammers. 

“Oh,” Eddie says. “Sorry.”

“Surprise?” Richie offers half-heartedly. “Do you guys want some waffles? Eddie just made some.”

Stan rolls his eyes, and Bev slugs Richie in the shoulder.

“Come here, you idiots,” she says, motioning for both Eddie and Richie to hug her. They do.

“So you’re not going to lie to me about where you’re going next time you decide to leave the house unannounced?” Mike asks.

“Yes, mom,” Eddie jokes. “Yeah, I’m really sorry, guys. I lost track of time, and I didn’t know you guys would be this worried.”

“It’s okay,” Ben says. “Just, tell us next time, okay?”

“Okay.”

_Next time._

Eddie grins. 

He’s going to be spending a lot more time at Richie’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well?  
> didja like it?  
> didja hate it?  
> tell me about it and tell me about your day, i wanna hear it :)  
> i am obsessed with this fic and am super proud of this chapter, i hope it plays with ur emotions a little haha  
> thanks for reading !


	7. I and Love and You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i love you, but it's much more complicated than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey all!  
> go listen to i and love and you by the avett brothers, it makes this chapter better haha  
> how is quarantine? i hope you all are doing okay during these trying times  
> <3 :) <3  
> ^^ those are for you ^^  
> i've been writing a lot more (as you can probably tell) and it's been okay but kinda boring...?  
> i rly wanna write like a one-shot drabble two-shot type thing with reddie and or the losers stuck in quarantine  
> what do you think they'd be like?  
> oh, one more thing, i recently discovered the song "eddie baby" and now it plays in my head all the time  
> so that's fun  
> comments and kudos are much appreciated!  
> enjoy!

“Hey guys, I’m going to Richie’s,” Eddie says casually to the Losers as he leaves Ben and Bev’s apartment, dressed in jean shorts and a light blue t-shirt.

“That’s the third time this week!” Ben exclaims, shocked.

“I’m h-h-happy for them,” Bill says from behind a cup of coffee.

“Yeah, but they’re gonna be all sappy now,” Stan nearly whines. 

Bev glares at him.

“Yep, yep. Super happy for them,” Stan corrects himself. “Very, very happy.”

Mike chuckles. “Eddie hasn’t had to use that inhaler in _days_ , now. I think that’s an improvement on its own.”

“Face it, they’re good for each other,” Bev states, stirring some sugar into her coffee. She sips it, making a face. “Still not enough.”

Eddie arrives at Richie’s house a few minutes before he’s even up, or a few minutes after Emilia gets up, depending on which way you look at it. 

“Eddie!” Emmy yells, rushing to greet him at the door. “Hi!”

“Hi there, sweetie,” Eddie says, hugging her. 

“Daddy’s still sleeping,” she says in a hushed voice, bringing a finger to her lips. Since Eddie’s been there, she’s learned to have a little bit of respect for that phrase. 

“Oh, okay,” Eddie whispers back, chuckling. 

“Breakfast?” 

“Sure.” 

Eddie makes her a bowl of cereal, and gets a pot of coffee started for Richie, along with some tea for himself.

He feels Richie’s arms wrap around his waist, his fingers going under the hem of his t-shirt and gently touching the skin near his belly button. 

“Stop, Richie, that tickles,” Eddie says, laughing. He’s not complaining, though. 

Richie pulls his hands completely back, laughing. 

“Okay, but you can keep hugging me.” 

Richie drapes himself over Eddie’s shoulders, resting his head in the crook of Eddie’s neck. 

Eddie sighs.

“Eddie, what’s Daddy doing?” Emmy asks, giggling. 

Eddie blushes. “He’s… he’s hugging me…?” He almost smacks himself because of how unsure he sounds. 

Emmy laughs. “I want hugs too!” She reaches out to them from her spot at the table. 

Richie removes himself from Eddie and walks over to his daughter, picking her up, hugging her, and spinning her around briefly before helping her sit back down. 

“More!” She claps her hands, smiling. 

“More after breakfast,” Eddie says, taking a sip from his tea. 

Richie grabs a cup of coffee. “Thanks, Eds.”

“Of course.”

Eddie doesn’t really mind it when Richie calls him Eds if they’re alone. He gets flustered, sure, but he doesn’t have to cover up his blush by acting angry. He can just let himself enjoy being complimented, flirted with, and liked. He hopes that one day he won’t have to cover up in front of others anymore. 

One day. 

Not today. 

“Okay, so what’s on the agenda today, cap’n?” Richie asks with a weird accent, one that could be described as a pirate…? Eddie doesn’t know. Richie’s sitting at the kitchen table next to Emilia with his hands supporting his head. Sitting like that, he looks as much a child as she does. 

“First of all, don’t call me that. I’ve been very lenient with your use of nicknames lately,” Eddie points out. 

“True, true,” Richie admits. 

“And second, there’s no agenda, I just like having a kinda-sorta plan of what I’m going to do for the day. Like a to-do list.” 

“It’s an agenda,” Richie states. 

“Agenda,” Emilia repeats. 

“Look, now you’ve got her saying it, too,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes. 

“S’ghetti, what’s an agenda?” Emmy asks innocently. 

“Emmy, remember when we talked about how my real name is Eddie, and Daddy only calls me Spaghetti when he’s being silly?” Eddie asks patiently. 

Emmy nods. “I’m being silly, like Daddy.” She pulls a silly face, causing both Richie and Eddie to burst out laughing. 

“Looks like I’ve got another comedian in the making,” Richie says, ruffling Em’s hair.

She looks up at him. “Chameleon?” 

“Comedian,” Richie corrects, smiling. “It’s someone whose job is to make people laugh. And I’m just playing around, Em. Be whoever and whatever you want to be.” 

“Okay!” And with that, Emmy hops down from her chair and goes off to find some toys. 

“So,” Eddie starts. 

“So,” Richie repeats. 

“Y’know Mike’s girl, Julie?” Eddie asks. 

“Not personally, but I know of her,” Richie says. 

“Obviously, no one knows her personally but me,” Eddie says. “Okay, well she’s coming up here tomorrow night, and I was wondering if…” Eddie twists his hands in his lap. “If, like, we could ask Ben and Bev if we could host dinner here and stuff, I don’t know, nevermind that’s a stupid idea…”

“No, it’s not,” Richie says, taking Eddie’s hands in his. “It’s a really good idea. Let’s ask them.” 

While Richie calls up Ben and Bev, Emilia walks back into the kitchen with a bottle of nail polish. 

“Eddie?” she asks. “Will you paint my nails?” 

Eddie grins. “Sure, if it’s okay with your dad.” He knows it will be. 

“Yes!” Richie says. “They said of course, by the way,” he tells Eddie. 

Eddie’s shoulders slump in relief. He doesn’t know why he was so scared Ben and Bev would say no. He knows they love having everyone over, but he thinks if it were him he’d also like to have a break and let someone else host every once in a while. Well, it doesn’t matter now. They said yes. Now all Eddie has to do is figure out what to cook. 

“Okay, Em, what colors are we doing?” Richie asks, pushing his curls back so he can see. It’s no use. They just fall right back on his forehead as soon as he moves.

Eddie whispers something in Em’s ear. She nods, giggling behind her hand. Eddie leaves the room. 

“What did he just say?” Richie asks. 

“I don’t know,” Emilia replies innocently, shrugging.

“Yes you do!” Richie protests. 

“No I don’t!” 

“Okay, okay, what colors?” 

“Black for you, ‘cuz that’s what you said you always liked to painted your nails,” Em says, handing Richie the black polish. “Rainbow colors for me, because that’s my favorite color, and probably red, yellow, pink, or blue for Eddie, since he’s always wearing those colors, they would match. Right?” 

“You’re exactly right,” Richie says. 

Eddie comes up behind Richie and pulls his bangs back.

“Eddie, what’re you-” 

Eddie clips them back… with one of Emilia’s hair clips. 

“Oh my-”

Eddie steps back. “You look great, Richie!” he exclaims, laughing his ass off. “No, really, you look absolutely stunning.”

Richie slumps in his seat. “Spaghetti, you _know_ how awkward I look without bangs. Remember first grade?” 

“How could I forget,” Eddie says, still laughing. 

Em’s giggling behind her hand. “Daddy looks pretty.”

“Thanks, Em. Eddie doesn’t think so.”

“Yes, he does,” Em says.

“Yes, he _does,_ ” Eddie repeats. 

“Okay, okay,” Richie says, putting his hands up in defeat. “So who’s painting whose nails?” 

Eddie’s painting one of Richie’s hands while Emmy paints the other.

“Dang, she’s surprisingly good at this for a four-year-old,” Eddie says. 

Richie puts his hands over her ears. “She doesn’t like that phrase,” he jokes, pulling his hands away when she pouts at him. “But, yeah. Bev had her working on those fine motor skills pretty early.”

“I can tell,” Eddie says. “Em, will you paint my nails next?”

“Mhm,” she says. “When I’m done.”

“Well, of course. Wouldn’t want to interrupt this lovely client's experience,” Eddie jokes, finishing up Richie’s left hand and blowing on the nails.

Richie grins. “Okay, Eds, if you wanted a blow-”

“OKAY!” Eddie yells, dropping Richie’s hand. “Emilia, not to sound impatient or anything like that, but uhm… top coat time?” 

Emilia hands him the clear bottle and he finishes Richie’s left hand. 

“Eds, that’s really good,” Richie compliments. “When’s the last time you’ve had your nails painted?” 

“Oh, man,” Eddie says, running a hand through his hair. “It’s been a while… I’d say…”

A memory comes flooding back to him, all at once. 

He’s with Richie in his room, and they’re blasting Africa. Richie’s holding a bottle of silver nailpolish and using it as a microphone as he dances around the room, looking like a fool but making Eddie laugh. Eddie’s happy, and laughing… and in love. 

He’s in love. 

“Eddie?” Richie asks, still smiling. “You still with us?” 

Eddie shakes his head as if to clear it. “Huh? Y-yeah. Yes, sorry. Uhm… what was the question?” 

He _was_ in love. 

He’s still in love. 

The lines are starting to blur together at this point. 

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Eddie says, standing abruptly. 

“Is Eddie okay?” Emmy asks, finishing Richie’s last nail. She asks that every time Eddie has to up and leave, and Richie isn’t really sure how to respond anymore. 

“He will be.” He settles for that, hoping it works to reassure his daughter. 

Eddie doesn’t come back. Not in two minutes, five, not in fifteen. 

“Emmy, can you get your iPad and watch something for a little bit? I’m going to go check on Eddie, and then we’ll paint your nails, okay?” 

Emmy nods. “Okay, Daddy.”

Richie sighs and pulls the clip out of his hair, setting it on the table. 

He walks into his and Eddie’s room, knocking on the door to their bathroom. 

“Eds? You okay in there?” 

No response. 

“Eddie, I’m coming in, I hope you’re decent.” Richie cracks open the door and sees Eddie, sitting with his back against the bathtub, head on his knees and shoulders shaking slightly. 

Richie sits down next to him, slinging an arm over his shoulder. Eddie doesn’t flinch away. That’s a good sign. 

Eddie’s shoulders stop shaking within the next minute, and Richie deems it safe to speak. 

“What happened?” 

Eddie looks up, his eyes red-rimmed and cheeks wet. 

“I remembered,” he states blankly. 

Richie cusses under his breath. “Which parts?”

“Good ones,” Eddie says, sniffling. “So I don’t know why I’m sad.” 

“It’s okay to not know and it’s okay to be sad,” Richie says, rubbing Eddie’s back. 

“Remember when we were sitting there in your room, listening to Africa? And you were dancing like a fucking idiot, but I was laughing, and so were you? You painted your nails silver and begged me to let you do mine. I knew my mom would kill me but I let you do my toenails anyway?” 

Richie smiles sadly, nodding. “How could I forget? Y’know, I almost painted the rest of your fingers in your sleep.”

“ _No_ ,” Eddie says, deadpan. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t, ‘cuz Mrs. K’s sex is already rough enough-”

“Shut up! Shut up! Enough about my mother!” Eddie says, putting his hands over Richie’s mouth. He quickly pulls his hands away before Richie can lick him. 

Richie pouts. 

“I know your tricks,” Eddie says. 

“Are you feeling any better?” Richie asks. 

“A little,” Eddie replies. He forgets about the word for a while, until he looks up and sees Richie’s face. Then it’s all he can think about. “No.” 

“How can I help?” Richie asks. 

“Even just sitting here helps… a _lot_ , so… thanks for that,” Eddie says. 

“Of course,” Richie says. “Can I kiss you?” 

Eddie nods, and they sit there in silence for a little while longer, Richie pressing quiet kisses to the back of Eddie’s neck and his shoulders, while Eddie lets himself forget about words, meanings, and emotions and just learns how to be in the moment. 

“Okay, I should probably go make sure Em hasn’t blown anything up,” Richie says, standing up. He offers his hand to Eddie. “Wanna come?” 

Eddie nods, wiping his eyes. “Do I look like I’ve been crying? Be honest.”

“A little. But, Emmy’s four, she won’t notice. And you still look beautiful.”

Eddie blushes. “Thank you.”

“Emilia Tozier!” 

“What?” she yells back. 

“We’re going to paint your nails now!” 

“Rainbow!” she screams. 

“Richie, she’s going to lose her voice one of these days,” Eddie says, shaking his head. 

“Oh, it’s already happened,” Richie replies. “She got it back within two days and is yelling now more than ever.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. 

They paint Emmy’s fingernails rainbow and Eddie’s red, and then Emilia insists they do the kid facemasks Bev got her, and it kinda turns into some sort of spa day.

“Does she do this often?” Eddie asks, helping Emmy wash the remnants of the facemask off. 

“Sometimes,” Richie says. “She has a bunch of toys, puzzles, and games… sometimes she helps and watches me play video games, we always watch movies before bed, and I like to think she doesn’t spend too much time in front of a screen.”

“I think you’re correct,” Eddie says. 

As Eddie makes Emmy lunch, Richie watches him from the dining room table, where he’s trying to write. 

During his time living with Eddie, he’s noticed a few things he’d forgotten about in the past five years.

Of course, he’d never forgotten the feeling of overwhelming, all-consuming… there’s another word there. He doesn’t know what the word is. Forever? 

No. 

That’s wrong. 

He knows the ending word is love. He doesn’t like to think about that word. It makes him feel hopeless. 

Is that the word? Hopeless love? 

No. 

Well, he’d never forgotten the L word, but he had forgotten a lot of the little things. 

Whenever Eddie is doing something, he is focused on that task. Whether that be painting Emmy’s nails, helping her wash her hands, or even making a peanut-butter sandwich, he is so intently focused on that one task that you have to call his name a couple times just to get his attention. 

That’s another thing. He gets lost in his own head a lot, which can be a little frustrating when he forgets what you were just talking about, or when he gets lost in a bad memory instead of a good one, but Richie has learned to be there for him throughout these past few days, and finds that it works much better than his tactic of getting high, being mean, and becoming frustrated that he used five years ago. 

Eddie wakes up early and goes to bed late. Richie knows because he almost always wakes up to the smell of whatever food Eddie decided to cook for breakfast that morning, and because at night, Eddie always brushes his hair out for him before he goes to bed, sending Richie off to sleep before him. 

Eddie lays out his outfits the night before, and cares about fashion. When Richie asked him about this, he said he picked up a few tips and tricks from Bev, but goes shopping on his own, occasionally asking her for her opinion on color schemes and different cuts and fits of jeans. 

Color schemes got Richie thinking about interior decorating… and he didn’t follow that train of thought because he didn’t really know if it would lead somewhere that would make him happy.

“Richie?” Eddie asks. “Do you want a sandwich too?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Richie says, still lost in his own world. 

Eddie sets a plate in front of him. “Jeez, now I know how you feel when I do that.” He laughs a little. “You okay?” 

Richie nods. “Yeah, I’m just thinking.”

Overwhelming, all-consuming, never-ending love. 

That’s the word. 

Never-ending. 

Continuous.

Unfaltering.

Perpetual.

“Are you going to eat that sandwich or just stare at it?” Eddie jokes, pulling his hands through Richie’s hair. 

“Uhm…” Richie stammers, picking up the sandwich. “Yeah, sorry. Eat it.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“I’m fine.”

That night, upon Emilia’s request, they watch The Lion King. 

“Okay, okay, I see how it is,” Richie whispers. “She wants to watch the movie, and then leaves us stuck with it after she falls asleep?” He picks her up easily. 

“How do you do that?” 

“Do what?” Richie asks, walking upstairs. 

“Pick her up like that. Like… won’t she wake up?” 

“Nah,” Richie says, laying her down. “I mean… all kids startle a bit as soon as you move them, but unless you’re trying to wake them up, they won’t.”

Eddie laughs. “Damn. Who woulda thought you’d be so good at this sorta thing?”

“Not me, that’s for sure.” 

Eddie thinks of that word again, the forbidden one, when he sees how good Richie is with Emilia and how much he _loves_ her. 

Richie loves Emmy, Eddie loves Emmy, Emmy loves both of them, why can’t they love each other?

It’s obviously different. 

Obviously. 

Eddie wants it so bad. 

Richie pulls up Pandora on his phone and tunes into a new station.

“Who’s this?” Eddie asks. 

“Avett Brothers,” Richie replies easily, leaning back on the couch.

“They’re good,” Eddie says, fitting himself between Richie and the end of the couch. 

Richie smiles. “This song is called ‘Head Full of Doubt / Road Full of Promise.’”

“Yeah. It’s good,” Eddie says, snuggling in close to Richie and closing his eyes, just soaking up the moment and the music.

Eddie thinks of the word again, and how much he _really_ wants to say it. 

A new song starts. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Richie whispers under his breath, pulling out his phone to skip. 

“No, Richie,” Eddie says calmly, putting his hand over Richie’s. “I really like this band.”

“The song is kinda… sad,” Richie admits.

“Not from what I’ve heard so far. I like the instruments.”

_Ah Brooklyn, Brooklyn take me in_

_Are you aware the shape I'm in?_

_My hands they shake, my head it spins_

_Ah Brooklyn, Brooklyn take me in_

“Do you wanna dance?” Richie asks tentatively, standing up and holding out his hand. 

Eddie blushes, nodding and giving Richie his hand. 

Richie pulls him up quickly, and he giggles, nearly falling over. 

_When at first I learned to speak_

_I used all my words to fight_

_With him and her and you and me_

_Ah, but it's just a waste of time_

_Yeah, it's such a waste of time_

Richie pulls Eddie close and sings that verse right in his ear. Eddie shivers. 

_That woman she's got eyes that shine_

_Like a pair of stolen polished dimes_

_She asked to dance, I said it's fine_

_I'll see you in the morning time_

_Ah Brooklyn, Brooklyn take me in_

_Are you aware the shape I'm in?_

_My hands they shake, my head it spins_

_Ah Brooklyn, Brooklyn take me in_

Richie spins Eddie and then pulls him even closer than before. They’re not really dancing now, more just swaying to the music. Eddie loves every minute. 

Eddie loves Richie. 

Eddie _loves_ -

_Three words that became hard to say_

Richie sings quietly, loosening his hold on Eddie so he can run if he wants to. 

Eddie’s heart speeds up. 

He feels like he needs to run, hide, push down this emotion. 

_I and love and you_

The speaker continues. 

They keep dancing. 

Eddie’s heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest. 

_What you were then I am today_

_Look at the things I do_

Richie pulls Eddie close again, one hand on the small of Eddie’s back and one on his waist. Eddie’s arms are wrapped loosely around Richie’s neck, his head on Richie’s shoulder, or as close as it can be, with their height difference. 

_Brooklyn, Brooklyn take me in_

_Are you aware the shape I'm in?_

_Oh, my hands they shake, my head it spins (spins)_

_Ah Brooklyn, Brooklyn take me in_

_Dumbed down and numbed by time and age_

_Your dreams that catch the world the cage_

_The highway sets the traveler's stage_

_All exits look the same_

Richie pulls away to look at Eddie, and finds his heart speeding up as well. He can feel Eddie’s heartbeat through his shirt, and wonders how Eddie is still comfortable enough to be out here with him when he’s obviously about to have a panic attack. 

“Eddie are you-”

“ _Sh_ ,” Eddie says. “I like this song.” 

_Three words that became hard to say_

Richie sings in Eddie’s ear.

_I and love and you_

He pulls away to look at Eddie, whose eyes are filling with tears. Richie really hopes they’re happy tears. 

He really wants to say these words and mean them, and not be afraid of them anymore. He doesn’t want to be afraid of his feelings and how Eddie will react.

_I and love and you_

Eddie looks up at Richie as he sings to him, and feels the words in his heart. He’s not scared anymore. He knows he’s right where he’s meant to be. 

He opens his mouth to sing the last words.

_I and love and you_

Eddie tilts his head up, and they kiss. 

A tear drips down Eddie’s cheek. 

“I love you,” Richie whispers, and his lips brush Eddie’s as he speaks. 

“I love you, too. I always have. Gosh, I never _stopped_ loving you.”

“Me either. I stupidly thought the drugs could stop it, but they couldn’t.”

“ _Nothing_ could,” Eddie continues. 

“I love you,” Richie says, feeling tears prick behind his eyes as well. 

“Say it again,” Eddie whispers, wiping the tears off Richie’s cheeks. 

“I love you.” He punctuates each word with a kiss. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Eddie says. He brings his hands up into Richie’s hair and then kisses him, crashing their lips together.

“Okay, Eddie, keep it PG-” he’s cut off by Eddie kissing him again. 

“Idiot,” Eddie mutters. 

Richie twists his hands in Eddie’s hair, tugging his head back a bit. Eddie bites his lip, and works with the hem of his shirt. Richie pulls back, tugging his shirt off. 

“Is this okay?” he says, breathing heavily. 

Eddie nods, crashing their lips together again. He drags a hand down Richie’s chest, sending shivers down his spine. 

“I love you,” he repeats, for the thousandth time as he pulls back to get his shirt off. 

Richie kisses Eddie as he drags his fingers down Richie’s back. 

“Eddie, I love you so much.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

After changing into some pajama pants, they lie down and fall asleep like that, Eddie’s head on Richie’s chest and Richie’s hand in his hair.

Eddie’s completely content. 

* * *

Eddie wakes later than he usually does, but still earlier than Emilia, which is good.

He doesn’t know if she would’ve asked why he and her daddy were both shirtless in his bed, but he most definitely doesn’t want to find out, or explain that. 

He removes himself from Richie’s death-grip and starts looking for his shirt because _that_ happened.

“Eds…” Richie murmurs, rubbing his eyes. “Where ya goin’?” 

“I’m trying not to explain to your daughter why we’re shirtless,” Eddie says, pulling his shirt over his head. 

“Yeah… yeah…” Richie says, letting his head drop on the pillow. “Sounds good…” And… he’s out again. 

Eddie chuckles, looking at himself in the mirror. He’d picked up Richie’s shirt instead of his own, and he thinks he actually looks pretty good in it. It’s a tiny bit big, but he likes the baggier style.

Emilia meets him in the kitchen just as the coffee is ready.

“Hi, Emmy.”

“Good morning,” she says, pulling herself up into her seat at the kitchen counter. She swings her legs back and forth, releasing excess energy that all four-year-olds have. “Can I have some breakfast please?” 

“Sure,” Eddie says. “How about some fruit, and some toast?” 

Emilia nods and stops kicking her legs. 

Eddie gives her a cup of water and then starts cutting up the grapes, strawberries, bananas, and peaches to give to her. He pops four pieces of toast in the toaster, and then starts scrambling some eggs as well. 

“Do you want eggs too?” Eddie asks. 

Emilia shakes her head, starting to munch on the piece of dry toast. 

“Oh, honey, don’t you want some butter or jelly or something?” Eddie asks, almost laughing. _Has Richie never given her toast before?_

“Oh, uhm… sure,” Emilia says, handing the toast back to Eddie. He lightly spreads butter and jelly on it, then gives it back to her. “Oh, that’s better,” Em says, smiling. “Thanks.”

“Of course, Emmy.”

Eddie finishes up the eggs and the rest of the toast, and then takes a seat next to Emmy, getting started on his breakfast.

Richie walks in as Eddie’s doing the dishes. 

“Good morning, Eddie,” Richie says, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

Eddie freezes. 

“Relax, Em went into the other room.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry,” Eddie says quickly.

“Don’t apologize. I get it. We’re not ready to explain that shit yet,” Richie says. 

“I made you a plate.”

“Thanks.” 

Richie sits down to eat, and Eddie watches him, thinking about the things he’s learned from living with Richie. 

Richie never sits still. Much like his daughter, Richie is a ball of energy and always has to be doing something. He releases this energy by chasing Emilia around the house and playing games with her. When he’s sitting down, he’s shaking his leg or fidgeting with his hands. And when he’s asleep, he’s cuddling Eddie. 

Richie is very good with kids. He doesn’t know if he’s only good with his kid, or if he’d be like this with any kid, but Richie being domestic with Emilia is… very adorable to Eddie. Richie being an idiot and making Emilia laugh is the cutest fucking thing in the world. Eddie loves that Richie accepted him so easily into their little family. 

Richie can’t cook for shit. He can make mac and cheese, cereal, frozen pizza, and waffles, but that’s about it. Eddie has cooked almost all the meals since he’s been living here, and he’s been spoiling both Emmy _and_ Richie. He’s happy too, though. As long as they’re happy. 

He loves living here, and he loves…

He loves Richie.

And he can say it now.

“Richie?” 

“Yes?” 

“I love you,” Eddie says sweetly, reaching across the table so their hands are clasped.

“I love you, too,” Richie says, grinning. 

“What should I cook tonight?” Eddie asks, taking Richie’s plate and putting it in the dishwasher.

“Whatever you want, Spaghetti,” Richie replies, hugging Eddie from behind. “I’m sure it will be amazing.”

“Okay… thanks, but that’s not really helping me narrow down my options here.” 

“Ask Emilia.”

“Emmy has the taste of a four-year-old.”

“Insulting!”

“Shut up,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

“His parents are probably idiots too,” Richie quotes, the thought popping in and out of his head before he can stop it. 

Eddie nearly smacks Richie upside the head at that. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I really am,” Richie says, so lovesick he can’t think to say anything else. “How about… you make chicken parm? That’s always good.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, shrugging. “Why not? Do we have the ingredients?”

“Probably not…” Richie trails off. “I can-”

“No it’s fine.” Eddie cuts him off. “I’ll go to the store, and then all three of us can cook, okay?” 

“Eddie, you know I can’t-”

“Emmy’ll love it,” Eddie says. 

“Okay, you got me there,” Richie says, giving in. “See you in a bit.”

“Love you, bye.”

“Love you, too.”

* * *

“Okay, okay, so you’re telling me that I have to dip this in eggs, and then flour?” Richie asks.

“Yes, jeez, your daughter is better at this than you are,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes. 

Emilia happily dips another piece of chicken into the egg mixture, then flour mixture, then sets it on the plate for Eddie to cook.

“Well, obviously. She watches Bev do this shit all the time.”

Emilia gives Richie a look.

“Stuff! I mean stuff!”

Richie dips the chicken in the egg mixture and accidentally splatters some all over himself. Then, when he puts the chicken in the flour, the flour puffs up and explodes everywhere. He shakes his head, trying to get the flour out of his hair. 

“Richie!” Eddie exclaims. “You would expect the four-year-old to be making this kind of mess.”

“Stop insulting my daughter,” Richie teases, finally succeeding in getting the chicken coated and on the plate. “I did it!” 

“Good job,” Emmy says, clapping her hands. “Only three more to go!”

Emilia does two out of the three chicken pieces that are left as Eddie helps Richie clean up a little. 

“Okay, Richie can you start making the sauce, or should Emilia do it?” Eddie half-jokes, setting the cooked chicken aside.

“I can do it,” Richie says. 

“Okay, just read the directions.”

“Didn’t you hear? I’m illiterate.”

“No, I didn’t hear that,” Eddie says, chuckling. 

Richie starts the sauce and it’s actually pretty smooth-sailing from there.

“Eddie, c’mere, I need you to taste this,” Richie says, tasting the sauce. Eddie comes up behind him, but instead of giving Eddie the spoon, Richie just turns around and kisses him. “So? Does it need anything else?”

“Asshole,” Eddie mumbles, grabbing the spoon and getting an actual taste of the sauce. “Maybe some more pepper… but it actually tastes really good. I’m surprised it’s not burnt to a crisp, though sauce isn’t even able to be burned.” 

“Thanks?” Richie wonders if that was a compliment.

Eddie drags a hand through Richie’s loose curls, and a little bit of flour falls on the floor. 

“You’re welcome. The next step is doing all this, but without the mess.”

They finish the chicken parm in record time, and Emmy even helps Eddie clean the kitchen. 

The doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it! I’ll get it!” Emmy yells, running out of the room excitedly. “Uncle Ben! Aunty Bev! Hi!” 

Richie runs to get Emilia at the door before she actually tackles her aunts and uncles. 

“Hey guys,” he says casually, Eddie walking up behind him. 

Bev picks up Emilia. “Hey, Emmy, how are you?” 

“I’m good, what about you?” 

“I am wonderful.”

Ben chuckles. “Richie, oh my gosh, did you cook?”

“Kinda,” Richie says. “He did a lot of it.”

Eddie smiles, holding up the spoon he was using to stir the sauce. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Ben says. “This is amazing and all, but we’ve missed you at the house.”

“Thanks. I’ve missed you all, too.” 

Bev pulls Richie off to the side.

“Okay, well, I brought wine, Richie, I hope that’s okay… I know you usually just have sparkling cider or water,” Bev says quietly.

“That’s perfect, Bev, thanks for telling me,” he says. 

They hang out in the living room for a bit, and then Stan and Bill arrive, and this time, Richie can’t stop Emilia from literally tackling them. 

“W-woah,” Bill says as Emilia hugs him. 

“Hi Uncle Bill and Uncle Stan!” 

“Hi, Emmy,” Stan says, ruffling her hair. 

“Okay… where’s Mike? It’s not like him to be late,” Eddie says.

“He’s not late, he’s just waiting on Julie. She wants to make her best first impression,” Bev tells everyone. 

“I can’t wait to meet this Julie chick. She sounds super cool, but I gotta make sure she’s good enough for our Mikey,” Richie jokes. 

Eddie rolls his eyes. “She’s wonderful.” 

The doorbell rings. 

Emilia runs up to the door, but Richie pulls her back and lets Eddie get it. 

“Hey, Mike,” Eddie says. 

“Eddie. It’s like you literally disappeared off the face of the Earth,” Mike jokes. 

Eddie laughs. “Hi, Julie! Long time no see!” They hug briefly.

“Here it is, Lucky Seven, all together again!” Richie says loudly. “Hi, Julie. I’m Richie, the resident trashmouth.” He holds out his hand for her to shake, which she does, laughing.

“Sorry about him,” Eddie says. “He has no filter.”

“Uncle Mike,” Em says, jumping and wanting to be picked up.

“Emmy!” Mike picks her up and holds her on his hip, where she introduces herself to Julie. 

“This is my daughter, Emilia,” Richie says.

“I can tell.” Julie laughs. “She looks just like you.”

“Acts like him too,” Stan says dryly. 

“That’s a compliment!” Richie yells. “Or I'm taking it as one!” 

“I’m B-bill. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Stan.”

“Ben.”

“And I’m Bev,” Beverly says, going right in to hug Julie. “Until you, Em and I were the only girls. You kinda saved us.”

“We’re not _that_ bad,” Richie protests.

Julie laughs. “And you guys have all known each other since you were 13?”

Mike nods. “Yep. Can you believe I stuck around with all of these idiots?”

“Okay, okay, let’s stop insulting each other and eat, shall we? I didn’t work hard on that chicken parm for nothing.”

“Richie, shut up. If anything, Emilia did most of the work.”

“Emilia and I-”

“Richie, we all know Em and Eddie did most, if not all of the cooking, and you made the mess, so drop it, okay?” Bev says sassily.

Julie laughs. “Are they always like this?” she asks Mike.

“Sadly, yes.”

“Okay, Julie, so what’s your major?” Bev asks casually, sipping a glass of cherry wine. 

“Art,” Julie replies proudly. 

“And she’s very good at it,” Mike boasts.

“Oh, stop,” Julie says, blushing. 

“It’s true.”

“Okay, okay, stop being so gushy, I’m going to puke,” Stan says. 

“You and Bill _literally_ acted the same-” Mike starts, before Bev cuts him off. 

“That’s so cool. What kind of art?”

“Mostly drawing.”

“Landscapes?” Ben asks curiously. 

“Sometimes, yeah.” Julie takes a bite of her chicken.

“That’s cool. I’m an aspiring architect, so… landscapes and buildings are kinda my thing.”

“That’s awesome,” Julie says. “What are the rest of you guys into?” 

“I’m really into fashion, and I hope to make it into a career one day,” Bev says. 

“That’s so cool. Sometimes I draw dresses and things… but they never really go anywhere,” Julie says, shrugging.

“Well maybe we can draw something together one day? You can be my model, I’ll make you something. Don’t get me wrong, the boys are great models, but-”

“But what?” Richie asks, feigning offense. 

“You’re so fidgety!” 

“Am not!”

“You kinda are,” Eddie says. 

Richie huffs. “They’re so mean to me. Emmy, aren’t they so mean to me?”

Emilia shrugs. “This chicken is very good.”

“She speaks the truth,” Julie says. “Props to the chef.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says. “Though I couldn’t have done it without Emilia’s help and Richie being a distraction.”

Everybody laughs. 

“I’m an accountant,” Stan says. “I love math, and I’m very happy with my job.”

“I d-d-do art sometimes too, but I mo-mostly like to w-w-write,” Bill says. 

“That’s cool, like books, or short stories…?” Julie prompts. 

“B-b-both,” Bill responds. 

“I’m a comedian,” Richie says. “Like, for real, not just a self-proclaimed one.”

“Yep,” Eddie says. “He has gigs and stuff.”

“And stuff.” Richie snorts. “Yeah.”

“That’s amazing. And Eddie I know you went into psychology, and you had plans to be a guidance counselor, right? Have you found any openings yet?”

“Yes,” Eddie gushes. “As a matter of fact, our old guidance counselor at our school just down the road is retiring next year. I should be able to take her place.”

“M-” Richie starts, but Eddie covers his mouth with his hand. 

Julie bursts out laughing. “You guys are hilarious. I see why you’re all Mike’s best friends.”

Mike blushes.

By the end of the night, everyone is full, happy, and laughing, some even a little tipsy. Richie only had water.

Julie helps Richie and Bev put Emilia to bed at around eleven, and everyone is out of the house at two. 

Richie slumps against the door to their bedroom. 

“I’m exhausted,” he states. 

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, getting changed into a pair of pajamas. He brushes his teeth and messes with his hair a little. “That was super fun. What do you think of Julie?”

“She’s amazing. Definitely fits in, definitely good for Mike,” Richie replies, yawning. “C’mere, Eds. I wanna love on you.”

Eddie blushes. “You wanna what?”

“Wanna cuddle you.”

“Oh, okay.” 

Eddie gets into bed and turns off the lights. Richie rolls over and pulls Eddie close, so he’s got one arm and a leg over Eddie’s smaller body. 

“I love you,” Eddie says quietly. 

“I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love-” he’s interrupted by a yawn. “Love you.”

“I love you, too, baby,” Eddie says, pet name coming out before he can stop it.”

“I… and love… and you…” Richie murmurs, breath getting heavier against the base of Eddie’s neck.

_Three words that became hard to say_

_I and love and you_

_I_

_and_

_Love_

_and_

_You_


	8. Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they've been through the wringer and back.  
> it's the 'and back' part that truly counts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! sorry for the huge wait, this chapter was a doozy. i didn't start writing this until wednesday, and i finished it just last night! normally i can bust chapters out no problem within a day, but this one is 40 pages long and features a whole lot of content, so buckle your seat belts folks, you're in for a ride.  
> this is the last official song of this fic, and i'm sad to say it's coming to an end. the next chapter, chapter 9, the epilogue, will probably be the last. :(  
> but! i am writing other things for the it fandom, such as if we have each other, which is a crossover between it and stranger things where mike and richie are twins! go give that a read if you haven't already, haha. i also want more modern reddie so i might be doing that... idk. just keep your eyes peeled, folks, and go ahead and hit that subscribe button :)  
> i hope you're all doing okay during this quarantine, and i hope this content can help put a smile on your face / brighten your day  
> thanks so so so much for all the kudos and comments, i can't express in words how much i love talking to you guys. the kudos and comments really keep me going, motivated, and writing!  
> well, enjoy the fic!  
> :) <3 :)

_Six Months Later_

Richie runs a hand through his hair nervously as he buttons the last button on his collared shirt.

Yes, a collared shirt.

He’s taking Eddie out to dinner, and hopefully putting a ring on his finger. 

Richie pulls the small box out of his pocket and fiddles with the ring. It’s a simple gold band with a small diamond in the middle. It’s practical, and not too gaudy, and Richie knows it’s Eddie’s style. He’s not worried about Eddie not liking the ring. He’s more worried about Eddie saying yes to spending the rest of his life with an idiot like Richie. 

Eddie has spent the past six months living at Richie’s place. While Mike settled down and found a nice apartment with Julie and a job delivering babies at their local hospital, Eddie moved in with Richie. His panic attacks have become less frequent, he laughs a lot more, and that spark in his eyes, the one that had been gone for so long, came back within almost a month of living with Richie.

 _If that doesn’t mean something_ , Richie thinks, I _don’t know what does_.

Richie takes a deep breath. “Okay, okay. You can do this. You get down on one knee, and… Oh, Eddie Spaghetti, I love you so! What do you say we tie the knot? Get hitched? Marry me, please? Fuck. Idiot. Get hitched? Who even-”

“Richie!” Eddie calls from the living room. “Are you ready?”

“Yes!” Richie yells back, pocketing the small, valuable box and smoothing down his hair one last time. It’s a little strange for Eddie to be yelling at him from the living room. Normally it’s the other way around, because Eddie takes _ages_ to get ready. Today, however, Richie needs to make sure he looks his absolute best.

“Daddy, you look fancy,” Emilia states. “Spaghetti looks fancy, too.” She looks over at Eddie, in his collared shirt and blazer.

“We’re going out to dinner,” Richie explains, picking her up and hoping this action doesn’t wrinkle his freshly ironed shirt. “And you’re staying with Aunty Bev and Uncle Ben, remember?”

Emilia nods. “Yes, that’s today.”

Eddie chuckles at her cute, matter-of-fact way of saying things. “Alright, let’s go.”

They get in Richie’s car, arriving at Ben and Bev’s house in less than ten minutes. Richie’s nerves may or may not have given him a bit of a leadfoot. Eddie doesn’t notice, or if he does, he doesn’t comment. 

“Hi, Emmy!” Bev exclaims from the doorway.

“You waited for her at the door,” Richie states. “What is this, preschool? Bev, is this your first playdate?”

“Shut up, Richie,” Bev says, hugging Emilia. 

“Hi, Aunty Bev!”

“See, she missed me too!” 

“What am I, chopped liver?” Ben jokes. 

“Uncle Ben!” Emilia says, turning to hug him as well. 

“Jeez, kid, you act like you haven’t seen them in years,” Richie says. 

“Well, it has been a week or so,” Eddie says. 

“Fair. We’ll be back by…”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Bev says. “Whatever time tomorrow morning is fine. Preferably before noon, but if that doesn’t happen, it’s all good.”

Eddie smiles. “Thanks, Bev. See you all tomorrow. Bye Emilia, love you!” 

She gives him a hug, doing the same with her dad.

“Bye kid,” Richie says, ruffling her curls a bit. “Love you.”

“Love you, too!”

“So, where are you taking me?” Eddie asks with a slight smirk, once they’re back in the car. 

“There’s this fondue place…” Richie admits. “And I know you’ve been wanting to try that for a while, so… I thought tonight would be a good night.”

“Wow, that’s really sweet of you Richie,” Eddie says.

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Richie jokes. 

Eddie laughs. “I’m not, it’s just a little… spontaneous?”

“No it’s not! We go out for dinner like… every week.”

“Okay, true. How far away is it?”

“Are we there yet?” Richie says in a childish voice.

“Oh, shut up,” Eddie says, laughing. 

“It’s around forty minutes. You can turn on the radio if you want.”

They drive the rest of the way, listening to a combination of rock, pop, and country music because deep down they are both suckers for that shit. 

“Woah, Richie, this place is fancy,” Eddie says, walking into the restaurant. There is a beautiful chandelier in the middle of everything, the tables and booths surrounding that. There’s a piano underneath the chandelier, but nobody’s playing it yet. 

“Yeah, do you think we underdressed?”

“No,” Eddie replies. 

“That is a gorgeous piano,” Richie comments. “You think I should go tickle the ivories?”

“And get us kicked out.” Eddie snorts. 

“Ah, relax, Eds, I was just joking.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I haven’t called you a nickname in almost a week now!” 

“Not true,” Eddie protests. “Emilia called me ‘Spaghetti’ not even an hour ago.”

“That’s my daughter, not me!”

“You taught her to-”

The hostess clears her throat, catching their attention. Eddie blushes, embarrassed at being caught bickering with Richie like they’re thirteen again, even though that’s one of his favorite things about their relationship. When he’s with Richie, he feels young again. Young, and alive, and _free_. 

“Yes, table for two please,” Richie says. He turns back to Eddie. “Wow, look at me, talking to someone and asking for a table for two. How adult.”

Eddie snickers, and Richie smiles, glad he could make Eddie laugh.

The hostess leads them to their table, and Richie pulls out Eddie’s chair.

“Really, you are going all out on the adult thing tonight,” Eddie comments, mildly impressed. 

“Yeah… well…” Richie trails off, not sure what to say. He’s so nervous, his jokes are coming in sporadic bursts. “Take a look at this menu, Eds. Chocolate or cheese?”

Eddie looks at him over the top of his menu. “Both, obviously. But that’s for desert. I’m feeling steak tonight, is that okay?”

“Anything you want, Eduardo,” Richie replies, unable to hide the smile on his face. Eddie’s too cute. 

“This isn’t even a Mexican place,” Eddie says, sighing. 

“Yeah, what country is fondue from anyway?” Richie wonders aloud.

“I think Switzerland,” Eddie muses. 

“Hi, I’m Amy, and I’ll be taking care of you two this evening,” their waitress says, pulling out her notepad. She’s a shorter woman in her late thirties, with kind eyes and strawberry-blonde hair pulled back into a bun. “What would you two like to drink?” 

“I’ll have water,” Richie says. 

“A glass of white wine, please,” Eddie says. 

“May I see your ID, please?” Amy asks. 

Richie struggles to hold in his laughter. “He’s older than me.”

“Would you believe me if I told you I’m 23?” Eddie asks, pulling out his wallet and showing her his ID. 

“Yes, I just have to check. You both look very young.”

“Thank you,” Eddie says, taking that as a compliment. 

“Of course. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

“Yeah, Eds, are you sure you’re 23?” Richie jokes. 

“Shut up,” Eddie mutters, blushing hotly. 

“I’m just teasing.” Richie laughs a little, putting his hand in his pocket and touching the box nervously.

“I know,” Eddie replies. 

“White wine, and water,” Amy says, putting the drinks down on the table. She gives Eddie a glass of water, too, as is customary. “Now, what would you like to order?”

Eddie orders an extremely healthy salad, with dark green lettuce, and Richie orders something similar with iceberg lettuce. 

“Iceberg lettuce and French dressing,” Eddie says, staring at Richie’s plate. “You couldn’t try to be healthy?”

“Oh, Eds, you’re just jealous because my salad is so delicious. I should’ve known. Do you want a bite?”

“No thanks,” Eddie says, putting a little bit of the balsamic dressing on his salad. “I hated spinach once, too, but if you just try it over and over, you’ll learn to like it.”

“You’ve already got Em hooked on that shit. I am not going over to the dark side. You made her brownies with spinach in them. How could you lie to a poor, innocent child?”

“Okay, first of all, I told her they had veggies in them. Second, she _liked_ it, and if I recall correctly, so did you.”

“True, true. It’s not fair those brownies had some secret ingredient. Was it-” Richie gasps, pulling a shocked face. “Was it love?”

Eddie almost chokes on his wine, he’s laughing so hard at Richie’s idiotic joke. “Yes, Richie, it was.”

“I knew it!” Richie exclaims, snapping his fingers. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes, I’m fine. You’re just so stupid I almost choked, nothing new.”

Richie smiles, because if Eddie can still backhandedly compliment his jokes, he’s definitely fine. Probably even enjoying himself. 

Eddie orders steak for the main course, while Richie orders chicken, and when the food arrives they trade plates halfway through.

“Which was your favorite?” Richie asks, pushing away the almost-finished plate of steak Eddie gave to him. He wants to save at least a little room for the cheese and chocolate fondue.

“The chicken,” Eddie says. “What about you?”

“The steak,” Richie tells him, laughing a little, because they each liked what the other person ordered.

“Okay, so what are we having for desert?” Amy asks, walking back up to their table. “We have white chocolate, dark chocolate, milk chocolate, and mix… and for cheese we have classic, cheddar, swiss…” 

“Eds, I know you like dark chocolate…”

“And you like milk,” Eddie says, not correcting the nickname. “Can we mix those two?”

“Of course,” Amy replies. “And for the cheese?”

“Classic?” Richie asks Eddie. He nods. 

“Okay, the cheese will be out before the chocolate, because otherwise, that would taste really weird, am I right?”

“Well, one time I ate a cookie and then ate spaghetti o’s and it was pretty disgusting. When the aftertaste of the cookie combined with the flavor of the spaghetti o’s…” he shudders. “But then I got over it and it was… fine, I guess.”

Eddie snorts. “Sorry about him, he doesn’t have a filter.”

“If I had a nickel for every time he said that,” Richie starts. “I’d be rich!”

Amy laughs. “Don’t worry about it, he’s funny,” she tells Eddie. “I’ll be right back.”

She brings them a plate of small bread bites, broccoli, cauliflower, and a few other assorted vegetables to dip in the cheese fondue. Eddie and Richie watch as it melts, and Eddie has the strong urge to grab Richie’s hand, but he can’t, since they’re sitting on opposite ends of the table. He touches Richie’s foot with his instead, and catches Richie smile from across the table.

Richie stabs a piece of bread with his fondue fork and dips it in the cheese, making sure it doesn’t drip and then giving it to Eddie. He wonders what it would feel like, if, instead of cheesy fondue, he was feeding him wedding cake.

_Woah, Richie. Slow down._

“Did we ask what blend this is?” Eddie asks thoughtfully, stabbing a piece of broccoli with his fork and dipping it in the cheese. He licks his lips, because the cheese became a little stringy on the way out of the bowl, but holy shit was that hot. 

Richie shakes his head, a little lost in Eddie’s beauty. How does he look so good eating cheese fondue? His eyes seem to sparkle with the light of the chandelier, and suddenly the weight in Richie’s pocket feels heavier than ever…

“Oh, we’ll have to ask then, when she comes back.”

“With the chocolate,” Richie says, a disconnected thought just popping out of his mouth. 

“Oh, yeah, the chocolate,” Eddie remembers, smiling. His smile is so beautiful. Richie really wants to kiss him.

Richie has to wait. 

Amy comes back, switching their cheese bowl out for the chocolate. 

“Uhm, what was the blend of cheeses in that bowl?” Richie asks. It wasn’t the most coherent sentence he’s ever put together, but Eddie just took a sip of his wine, and Richie feels so in love. 

“Cheddar, Gruyere cheese, and Emmentaler cheese,” Amy replies with a smile.

“It was really good,” Eddie says.

“I’m glad. I hope you enjoy the chocolate just as much.”

“We will,” Richie says. “This one’s got quite the sweet tooth.”

“Do not!” Eddie protests. “You’re the one who wanted milk chocolate.”

“You ordered dark just so you can drown it in marshmallows.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense! How would I drown it in marshmallows?”

Amy laughs. “Enjoy.”

“You made our waitress uncomfortable,” Eddie says, picking up his new fork and stabbing a strawberry.

“I made her laugh,” Richie corrects.

This is the last course of their meal. After this, he’s going to have to pull out the ring. He has to do it, tonight. Otherwise… he fears he never will. 

“Oh, wow, this is so good,” Eddie says. “Try some of the dark chocolate, come on. It’s not that bad.”

“Okay,” Richie gives in. “But I’m not trying it with fruit.” He stabs a marshmallow and dips it in the dark chocolate. “Holy shit.”

“Good, right?”

“Mhm.”

They swirl the dark chocolate and milk chocolate together to make semi-sweet, and throughly enjoy finishing the rest of the marshmallows, strawberries, and rice krispies left out for them.

_This is it, Richie. This is it._

They pay for the check, leaving a generous tip to Amy for being so kind and putting up with Richie. 

“How’d you like it, Eds?” Richie asks, grabbing Eddie’s hand nervously. He hopes his hands aren’t shaking or sweating too badly. 

“I loved it, Rich,” Eddie replies, kissing Richie’s cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Richie says, feeling detached from his own body. “So much.”

He leads Eddie back around the property, to a little courtyard next to the restaurant. There’s a fountain, and a really pretty garden. Richie lets Eddie get in front of him.

_Now or never, Tozier. Now or-_

He pulls out the box and gets down on one knee, waiting anxiously for Eddie to turn around. 

“Richie, look at these- oh!” Eddie exclaims, voice breathy and shocked. 

“Eddie, I-” Richie chokes up a bit, tears blurring his vision. _Fuck._ “I love you so much, always have, and I’m positive, that after the last five years, I always will. You’ve been through so much with me, from the shit we went through in high school, to pining after each other while you were at college, to spending the past six months in my parents’ old house, raising my daughter. You’re so smart, kind, and funny. You’re an incredible human being who’s stuck with me for so long, even when I wasn’t physically there. I can’t imagine life without you, Eddie, and I-” Richie swallows his tears. “I want to spend the rest of it with you. Will you marry me?”

Eddie’s mouth hangs open in shock, his eyes slightly wet with emotion. “I- uhm- I- holy _shit_ -” he stammers. “YES!” 

Richie stands and slides the ring on his left ring finger. “The hand closest to your-”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because Eddie is kissing him. Eddie is kissing him, and damn does it feel good. 

He’s kissing his fiancé. 

“Holy shit, Richie,” Eddie breathes, pulling away. His hands linger at the nape of Richie’s neck. “I love you, of course… wow… I- I’ve always seen this happening in my head but never thought it actually _would_.”

“Well, it did,” Richie says, grinning. His eyes are still slightly damp, but to be fair, so are Eddie’s. “We’ve been through the wringer, _and_ back. We’re still standing and loving, as fiercely as ever.”

“You’re such a cheesy motherfucker.”

“That’s right.” Richie smiles. “And you love me.”

“I do.”

The ride home consists of blasting the country music station, and lots of Eddie’s hand on Richie’s thigh, which is driving Richie _nuts_. 

As soon as they get home, Eddie kisses Richie again, playing with the buttons on his shirt. 

“Off?” Richie asks. 

“Mhm…” Eddie nods, fiddling with his buttons as well. He tangles his hands in Richie’s hair and kisses him again, hands making their way down until they’re resting on Richie’s shoulders. He pushes Richie’s mostly unbuttoned shirt off, hastily unbuttoning the two bottom ones that Richie somehow forgot about. 

Richie bites Eddie’s lip, causing him to gasp and again holy shit, holy shit, why is everything Eddie does so _hot_?

“Eddie, baby, I love you,” Richie murmurs against Eddie’s lips.

“Love you, too,” Eddie breathes heavily, his hands roaming lower on Richie’s back. “Is this okay?”

Richie nods, curls falling into his eyes. “More than okay, holy shit.” His lips meet Eddie’s and their tongues tangle together, and they loosely make out, standing like the idiots they are in the middle of their living room. 

Eddie’s had enough. He takes Richie’s hand and leads him back to the bedroom.

“Eds, what-”

Eddie puts his hands on Richie’s bare shoulders and slowly pushes him toward the bed. 

“Hot,” Richie mumbles aloud. 

Eddie laughs. “Thank you.” He kisses Richie’s shoulder, then his neck, then the sensitive spot on his jaw. Richie shivers, hooking his hands around Eddie’s waist and pulling him down so Eddie’s straddling him. 

Eddie crashes his lips against Richie’s, kissing his lips, then his cheek, and then back to his lips, and holy _shit_ Richie just wants closer, closer closer…

“I love you,” Eddie murmurs.

“I love you, too,” Richie breathes. 

They kiss again.

* * *

The phone rings. 

It doesn’t stop. 

Eddie groans, rolling over and pulling the covers over his head. 

The phone rings again. 

“Richie,” he whines, nearly smacking Richie in the chest while feeling blindly for his phone. “Who’s that?”

“Mmm…” Richie mumbles groggily. He sits and picks up his phone from the bedside table. “ ‘ello?”

“Richie!” Bev answers brightly. 

“Hello,” he repeats, a little less slurred. “How are you on this fine morning?”

“Afternoon,” Beverly corrects. “It’s one o’clock, and your daughter is just wondering where you are. I mean, we’re having a great time, Mike and Julie decided to stop by, but you know how she misses you and Eddie.”

“Oh, fuck,” Richie cusses. “It’s one o’clock?” He puts on his glasses and gently shakes Eddie’s shoulder. 

“Mhm,” Bev confirms. 

“Yeah, okay, we’ll be right there.”

“How did it go?” Bev asks, a little quieter. 

“I’ll tell you in person,” Richie says, holding Eddie’s left hand, and feeling the ring there.

“Bev knew?” Eddie asks, standing up and pulling on a t-shirt and some jeans. 

“Yeah. Who was I supposed to freak out to?” Richie half-jokes, pulling on a hoodie and some sweatpants. 

Eddie laughs. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” 

Richie speeds to Bev and Ben’s house once again, but this time, it’s not out of nerves. It’s purely because he misses his daughter.

“Daddy!” Em yells as soon as he walks through the door. She hugs him and then hugs Eddie. “Hi, Spaghetti.” 

“Hi, Emmy,” Eddie says, laughing a little.

“How did it go?” Bev asks, way too excited for her own good. 

Richie looks at Eddie, who nods. Richie holds up Eddie’s left hand. “He said yes!” 

Bev screams. “I’m so happy for you guys! Mike, Julie, Ben, get your as- your butts in here!” 

“No, no, don’t make them-”

“Did he say yes?” Ben asks. 

Bev nods. 

“Say yes to what?” Julie asks. 

Mike gives Eddie a look, and he nods. 

“Holy shit,” Mike says. 

“Richie and I are engaged,” Eddie tells everyone. 

“Engaged?” Emilia asks, tugging on Richie’s sleeve. “Daddy, what does engaged mean?”

Richie smiles. “You know how Eddie lives with us?” 

Em nods. 

“Well, engaged means that we’re going to get married. You know how Aunty Bev has a ring on her finger that Uncle Ben gave her?” 

She nods again. 

“Well, now Eddie has a ring that I gave him,” Richie explains. “And that’s a promise, to love each other forever. Like how Aunty Bev and Uncle Ben love each other.”

“Okay!” Emilia says happily. “Both Daddy?”

“I’m still Daddy… but you can call Eddie, well… what should she call you?”

Eddie has no idea. Luckily, Em does. 

“Dada.” She points to Eddie.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can call me Dada,” Eddie says softly, his heart melting. Em hugs him, and Bev and Julie awe quietly. 

Emilia runs off to get her toys from the other room. 

“I love that name,” Julie comments. 

“Yeah, I was really worried she’d say something old sounding, like Papa.” Eddie makes a face. “Not ‘til I’m a grandpa, thank you. Gosh. I don’t even wanna think about that.”

“Yeah, let’s just be young and stupid.”

“Young and smart,” Eddie corrects. 

Ben smiles. “So, have you guys thought about dates yet?” 

“Not really,” Eddie says. “This all kinda happened last night and… well…”

“We were too busy-”

“Okay!” Mike cuts Richie off. 

“We get it,” Ben adds. 

Richie laughs. “Yeah, we haven’t thought much about the planning yet.”

“Don’t worry, I can help you guys find photographers, caterers, and transportation. I can make your invitations, and oh…” Bev trails off. “Uhm, if you guys would be okay with it, I’d love to make the tuxes.”

“We would be more than okay with that,” Eddie tells her, smiling. 

“I wanna go in drag!” Richie exclaims. 

“You are not going in drag,” Eddie says. 

“You can’t stop me,” Richie protests.

“Uh, yeah, I can,” Eddie says. “It’s our wedding, dipshit.”

“Are they actually fighting?” Julie whispers to Mike. 

“No,” Mike tells her. “They just bicker a lot. It’s kind of their love language.”

“That and rough, kinky as-”

“Richie shut up!” Eddie says. “He’s disgusting. Don’t believe a word out of his mouth.”

Julie laughs. “Okay.”

“Well, we should get going my good fellows,” Richie says in a horrible British accent. “Emilia, dear, let us commence the journey!” 

“Okay,” she says. “Bye everyone! I will see you later!”

“Goodbye, sweetie,” Bev says, giving her another hug.

“How was your night?” Richie asks Em, buckling her in.

“It was good. We painted some, painted our nails, too, and we watched Madagascar.”

“What did you paint?” Eddie asks. 

“Sky, mostly,” Em answers. “And I painted my nails rainbow, see!” She holds them up, and Eddie turns around to look at them. 

“They’re so pretty,” Eddie says. 

“Thank you.” 

“Wish I could see, apricot, but I gotta keep my eyes on the road,” Richie says, reaching back and grabbing Em’s leg. 

She giggles. “I’ll show you at home.”

At home, Richie admires Emilia’s skillfully painted nails, and then sets her up on the couch with Bubble Guppies so he and Eddie can discuss dates for the wedding. 

“I wanna get married soon, Eds,” Richie admits. “I _really_ love you.”

“I really love you, too,” Eddie says honestly. “Is January okay?”

“It’s going to be pretty cold,” Richie says. 

“True, but we can have it inside… do you think we’ll have time to plan everything by then? And it’d be right after Christmas…”

“Our Christmases aren’t big anyway. It’s just us and the Losers. Maybe we should figure out who we’re going to invite before we do the dates?”

“The Losers,” Eddie says. 

“Any friends from college?”

“There’s a few from some of my classes that I can invite. Mike will certainly have more of their numbers.”

“Okay. It can be a small wedding, that’s completely fine. I think it’d be more fun that way, too. More inside jokes and shit.”

“Damn. My mom… she would’ve hated this shit. Do you think she would’ve even gone?”

“I don’t know, Eds,” Richie says honestly. “Would you have wanted her to?”

“Maybe,” Eddie says. “If she was nice. Maybe. What about your parents?”

“Nah,” Richie says. “They would’ve been like… sad and angry drunk, and that would’ve ruined all the fun.”

“Yeah.”

“Dead parents club,” Richie says, holding up his hand for a high five.

“That was an awful joke.” Eddie high-fives him anyway.

“So, Bev said she can help with catering, photography, transportation, and the tuxes… what about the wedding party?”

“My best man is Mike,” Eddie says immediately.

“Do I get a best woman?” 

“The maid of honor,” Eddie corrects. “And you can, if you want. We’re kind of already breaking all the rules of a traditional wedding just by being gay, so…”

“Bev is my maid of honor. And then Ben on your side, Stan on mine, Bill on yours, Julie on mine?”

“Sounds okay to me. Again, it’s not really a formal wedding, so it’s alright to not have ten bridesmaids.”

“Do you have any extended family that aren’t bitches?”

Eddie thinks for a minute. “My grandma. I love her. She always gave me cookies when I was at her house… and I think my mom had a brother and a sister, but we never saw them because apparently they had ‘diseases.’” He puts air quotes around that last bit. “What about you?”

“Yeah, both my grandparents were actually very nice. I don’t know how they raised such terrible people, but we’ll invite them, yeah?”

“Okay.” Eddie smiles. “We should also invite Bill’s parents, and of course Georgie!”

“I thought he was included in the Losers.”

“Well, yeah, but I just needed to say it. Ben’s mom was always nice to us, too.”

“We can just talk to everyone and see if their parents want to come, okay?”

“Okay.”

* * *

Planning goes relatively smoothing after that. Eddie is very detail-oriented, though, and sometimes he flips out about certain things, such as the decorations on the cake, or when Richie just _insists_ that he should go in drag. But Richie knows how to bring him back down just as well as he knows how to rile him up, so everything is okay. 

Emilia is extremely excited about the wedding. She’s never been to one before, and as soon as she found out she gets to wear a pretty dress and toss flowers on the ground, and hand the rings to Uncle Mike and Aunty Bev. 

Richie and Eddie don’t know and like any other kids besides Emilia, so they let her be the flower girl and the ring bearer. She’ll just carry the rings in a separate little pouch in her basket. 

Bev is fitting them for their tuxes, the day after they finally decided on a date: January 26th.

“This is all happening so fast,” Eddie says, as Bev measures the length of his arms. 

“You backing out on me, Kaspbrak?” Richie jokes. 

“Never. I just don’t want to miss it.”

Richie smiles, and then turns to Bev. “Bev, I want to wear white.”

“Okay,” Bev says. “I can definitely make that happen.”

“RIchie, you’re not wearing white. You look at a white shirt and it’s stained.”

“But Eds!” Richie protests. “I promise I won’t stain it. I’ll be super careful.”

“Do you really want to wear white or are you just trying to bother me?”

“I actually want to wear white,” Richie says honestly.

Eddie sighs. “If you _promise_ not to stain it, then fine. But promise me!”

“I promise,” Richie says. They lock pinkies.

“Okay.”

Richie already booked the venue, and Bev stayed true to her word by finding them a caterer, a photographer, and getting them a fucking limousine. Richie and Eddie spent weeks upon weeks tasting cakes before finally agreeing on a triple chocolate layer cake. They both love chocolate, it only took them so long to come to this conclusion because Eddie is picky as hell. Richie is in no way complaining, though. He loved tasting all the different flavors. Richie and Eddie decided on having an open bar, because they trust their guests not to get too many drinks so they’re broke, but they still want to treat their best friends. The color scheme for the wedding is varying shades of blues and teals, something Richie and Eddie found out they liked with Bev’s help. Bev also helped them pick out flowers that fit the color scheme. Eddie’s favorite are the white roses. Bev even helped them find someone to officiate the wedding.

“Bev, you’re a saint,” Richie says, pulling Emilia’s hair into a French braid. It’s mid-January, and he and Eddie are both equal parts exhausted from planning and excited for the wedding to actually happen.

“I know. Emilia, are you ready for bed?”

Em nods. “Yes, Aunty Bev. Tuck me in?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Bev picks up Emilia and carries her to her room. Richie flops back on the couch, and Eddie comes up behind him, rubbing his shoulders gently. 

“You okay?”

“Never been better,” Richie answers. “Love you.”

“I know,” Eddie says cockily. 

“Hey!” Richie says, sitting and up and reaching behind him, trying to tickle Eddie.

“Alright, you two lovebirds, you need to try on your tuxes.” They both follow her. “ _Separately_.”

Eddie hangs back while Richie goes with Bev to try on his tux. 

“Holy shit, Bev,” Richie says, examining himself in the mirror. “I look great.”

“You really do.”

The tuxedo is white with black trim on the inside, along with black embroidery on the pockets. Richie’s wearing a white button-up underneath the blazer, along with fitted white pants. 

“No, I mean, I look hot,” Richie says. “Eddie’s gonna flip his shit.”

“You’re going to flip your shit when you see what I made for him.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Richie says. “Are you really not letting us see each other the night before, or the day of?”

“Yes!” Bev exclaims. “Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean we’re not doing this properly!”

“So Eddie’s wearing a veil?”

Bev smacks him on the back of the neck. “Go change.”

Richie changes back into his sweatshirt and sweatpants. “You’re up,” he tells Eddie. 

Eddie smiles a little, rolling his eyes and then changes into his black tuxedo. “Richie, you better not be hiding behind somewhere to sneak a look at me!”

“He’s not, don’t worry,” Bev says. “Come, look at yourself in the full-length mirror.”

“Damn,” Eddie says. “Yeah. You did good, Bev.”

“Thank you.”

Eddie’s tuxedo is similar to Richie’s, except black with a white button-up and, surprisingly, a white bow tie. Eddie didn’t think she’d be able to pull that little detail off, but she did. 

Eddie changes, and they say goodbye to Bev, thanking her for all she’s done for them. 

“So, I know for the honeymoon you really want to go out of the country,” Richie starts.

“But you’re still hung up on Hawaii, California, and Florida, aren’t you?” Eddie asks. 

Richie nods his head. “I’m sorry. I mean, I honestly just want to go somewhere warm.”

“Jamaica is warm!”

“Yeah, but… okay, what if we compromise on Hawaii?”

“How is that a compromise?” 

“It’s not attached to America, so it’ll feel like going out of the country. It’s warm, they have accents, and I won’t have to get a passport!”

Eddie smiles. “You just know the solution to everything, don’t you?”

“Always.” 

Eddie gives Richie a quick kiss. “I’m going to bed.”

“Without me?”

Eddie nods. 

“It’s ten o’clock!”

Eddie nods again. 

Richie shrugs and pulls out his laptop, starting to research flights. They book one the next morning, somehow managing to get a nonstop flight to Hawaii from Maine. The flight will be their second night as a married couple, they wanted to spend the day with Emilia as a family so she wouldn’t wake up confused as to why her parents were just gone. 

“Did we actually just finish planning everything?” Eddie says, sitting down on the couch next to Richie. 

“Yes,” Richie confirms, pressing a kiss to his head. “You can rest peacefully tonight.”

Eddie laughs. “No I can’t. Who the hell knows what our friends are planning for bachelor parties.”

“Mike’s not going to go all insane on you. Bev, on the other hand, I’m a little scared.”

“Me too, but whatever it is, you’ll love it, because you two are the same amount of crazy. Mike’s probably just going to have us drink and talk. It’ll be fine.”

“Right on, Eduardo.”

“Shut up.”

* * *

The day has finally come. Well, not _the_ day, but the day before _the_ day, which is close enough because tonight, Richie and Eddie get to find out what crazy things Bev and Mike planned for their bachelor parties. Emilia is going to stay with Richie’s grandma, who he hasn’t talked to in quite some time… probably not since she messaged him on FaceBook to ask about Emilia. He feels bad, but she seems really excited to spend a little time with her great-granddaughter. The word feels weird in Richie’s mind, as his grandma is only sixty-three, but… they’ve had a history of young parents and grandparents. He wrinkles his nose, hoping Emilia doesn’t follow in their footsteps.

“Daddy?” Emilia asks, walking into his room. “I see you tomorrow?” 

“Yes, baby,” Richie tells her. “Are you okay?”

She nods. 

“Okay. You seem a little quiet. Did you sleep alright?”

“Yes. Can I have a braid?”

“Of course you can. Did Dada already make you breakfast?”

Emilia nods, sitting down in front of him and handing him the brush and hairbands.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

She’s quiet for a minute. “I’m going to miss you guys, when you’re gone,” she admits. “On vacation.”

“Oh, honey,” Richie says, his heart melting. “It’s okay.”

“I know,” she replies. “I just will.”

“We’ll be back before you know it, sweetheart, and then we’re going to have a really, really fun day, okay? Just the three of us. I know you might feel like we haven’t been paying as much attention to you lately-” she nods, making him feel guilty, but not intending to. This is what he gets for giving her almost all his attention, all the time, every single day, for nearly five years. “-but we have, weddings just take lots of work to plan.”

“Yeah.”

“But it’s going to be worth it, I promise. Tomorrow night you’re going to have so much fun. I”ll let you try a new treat, and we can dance all night long, okay?”

“New treat? Like ice cream?”

“Even better,” Richie tells her, brushing out the rest of her hair and pulling it into a fishtail braid. 

“Better than ice cream?”

“What’s better than ice cream?” Eddie asks, walking into the bedroom. 

“Kiddie cocktails,” Richie says. 

“You mean Shirley Temples.”

“Same difference.”

“Shirley Temple?” Emilia asks. 

“Holy shit. She’s never seen a Shirley Temple movie, has she?” Eddie asks. “I mean, I was never a huge fan, but I’m pretty sure Emilia would love them.”

“I’ve failed as a father,” Richie says, staring off into the distance. “Grandma has tons of Shirley Temple movies, she used to watch them all the time! I’m sure if I let her know Emilia wants to watch one, she’ll let her watch all of them.”

“Hear that, Emmy? New movies to watch,” Eddie says. 

“What are they about?” Em asks. 

“They usually have singing and dancing in them,” Richie tells her. 

Her face lights up. “I think I’m going to like grandma’s house.”

“You definitely will.”

Richie feels a pang of sadness for her and the grandparents she never had, but is glad she’ll at least get to experience a bit of what that’s like today. He makes a mental note to stay in touch with his grandma after the wedding, and not just on FaceBook. Richie introduced Em to her great-grandma a couple weeks ago, and they’d called every other day so Emilia wouldn’t feel like she’s going into a complete stranger’s house. Now, they’re very comfortable with each other.

Eddie and Richie longue around the house, switching between playing Barbies and Baby Alive with Emilia before Bev and Mike knock at their door. 

“Okay, we’re going to play with Em while you get ready. You two have an hour.”

“Are you sure we can’t just combine the parties?” Richie whines. “I’m going to miss my hubby-to-be.”

“Never say that again,” Eddie says.

“Yes, we are absolutely positive we can’t combine the parties,” Bev says. 

“It wouldn’t-”

“Richie,” Mike says. “Trust us.”

Richie shrugs and leaves to shower and dress in jeans and a nice shirt, because Bev told him to dress nicely, but not formally. Eddie wears something similar. 

“Hm, maybe we are going to the same place, Eds, and they just wanna surprise us.”

“I doubt it,” Eddie says, towel-drying his damp curls. 

“Are you ready to go?” Bev yells from the living room.

“Almost!” Richie calls back. “Jeez, impatient much?”

“Shut up, you’re the same way when I want to actually dry my hair instead of just having it be a wet mop on top of my head.”

“Hey, the ladies dig it.”

“Richie, literally shut up, we’re engaged.”

“That doesn’t-”

“Beverly, Richie needs to leave. Now!” 

“Babe, I’m sorry, I love you.”

“I know,” Eddie says. 

Richie gasps dramatically. “So that’s how it’s going to be? Who are you, Han Solo?”

“No.”

“Okay, come on, Richie,” Bev says, nearly dragging him out the door. “We still have to drop your daughter off at her grandma’s place.”

“Hang on!” Richie protests. “One more kiss, before we have to not see each other for a really long time!”

“It’s like, eighteen hours, Richie, not even.” Eddie rolls his eyes. “You’re so needy.”

“Am not.” 

“Shut up, or I might not kiss you at all.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“He would,” Bev says.

Richie gives Eddie a quick peck, and then Bev pushes him out the door, holding Emilia’s hand and trailing a little bit behind him.

“You ready to go?” Mike asks, standing in the doorway of the room.

“Yes,” Eddie says. “You didn’t plan anything too crazy, did you?” 

“Nothing you won’t like,” Mike reassures him. “Don’t worry.”

* * *

“I just don’t understand why I have to wear a blindfold!” Richie says. 

“Because it’s a surprise, dumbass,” Bev says.

They’d dropped Em off at her grandma’s house, and picked up Julie and Stan on the way to wherever the hell they’re going, and are now on their way there. Stan is trying to force Richie into a blindfold. 

“Stan, just stop, what the hell?” Richie exclaims, pushing Stan’s blindfold-filled hands away from his face. 

“Beverly told me to, dude, she’s going to crash this car if this bachelor party doesn’t go the way she planned.”

“Julie, back me up here, he should wear the blindfold.”

“Fine, I’ll wear the damn blindfold, but only if you three promise not to video me running into shit.”

“We promise we won’t _video_ you running into shit,” Julie reassures him, sharing a smile with Bev.

“That doesn’t mean we won’t run you into shit,” Bev says, laughing.

“Oh, fuck you guys,” Richie says, pulling on the blindfold anyway. 

They arrive at their destination, and Julie helps him out of the car, because she’s the only one Richie trusts to not run him straight into a street lamp, or any other objects. He doesn’t even know if there are street lamps on this street. 

“Hang on, one more thing,” Bev says, pulling a liquid eyeliner out of her pocket. “Richie, take off the blindfold, but keep your eyes closed, please and thank you.” She applies the eyeliner, and waits a moment for it to dry before putting the blindfold back on.

“Oh, come on! I don’t see why I have to wear this stupid thing-”

“Shut up, Richie,” Stan says. 

“Yeah,” Julie agrees. “It’s for the best.”

Richie feels a rush of cool air, and then “You can take off the blindfold, dipshit.”

He rips off the blindfold and looks around. “Where are we?” he asks, feeling like an idiot.

“Your very first drag show,” Bev says. 

“Holy shit, really?” Richie asks, extremely excited. 

“Yes,” Julie tells him. 

“Shit. Stan, you’re here, too?”

“Shut up.”

“I mean, I honestly didn’t think you were the flamboyant gay of the group, that was always kind of my thing, but…”

“I don’t have to be ‘flamboyant’ to enjoy a performance, do I?”

“Not at all,” Julie says. 

“Jules, what would we do without you? You’re too nice all the time, without you, we’d all be… we’d all be dicks to each other. All the time.”

“We were,” Bev reminds him. “Ben was mostly too shy to say anything. Only Mike was nice enough to-”

“Yep, makes sense why they’re a couple,” Stan says, nodding. 

“Okay, let’s get in there, what are we waiting for!” Richie yells, grabbing Julie’s and Bev’s hand. 

“Yep, okay, cut me off,” Stan says. “I’m used to it.”

The show is amazing, and if Richie’s being honest, it’s one of the best nights of his life. Right next to when Emilia came into his life, and the night after he proposed. All four of them have an amazing time cheering for and tipping the drag queens, and Richie goes up to one afterward to tip her again, and make a little conversation. They talk about costumes for a bit, and Bev joins in, making a few comments on some of the designs and complimenting the queen’s stylist. Julie and Stan are definitely a bit drunk, so Richie keeps an eye on Stan, to make sure he doesn’t wander off like he sometimes does while tipsy. Julie mostly sticks by Bev’s side, as they’ve become fast friends throughout the past six months. 

“That was amazing, guys,” Richie says, once they’re back in the car. “Who was your favorite performer? I liked the lady with the rainbow dress and huge blonde wig… and the Marilyn Monroe look-alike was super cool, and Bev, you even got some redhead representation there at the end!” 

“I knew he’d love it,” Bev whispers to Julie. “I liked the redhead, yes, and she was a very good dancer.”

“Marilyn Monroe was my favorite,” Julie says. 

“A blonde goddess,” Richie says. “There are so many blonde goddesses. Hell Julie, if you sang and danced, you could probably be the next. Like Madonna, and Taylor Swift!”

“Richie, you sound like a little kid,” Stan slurs.

“Be quiet Stanley, I’m not the one who’s drunk off my ass. And I can’t be a little kid, I’m getting married tomorrow… holy shit, I’m getting married tomorrow, wait…” Richie picks up his phone and sees that it’s past midnight. “I’m getting married today!” 

“Congratulations, Rich,” Julie says, turning around in the front seat to look at him. 

“Dude, that’s fucking crazy. I’m getting married today. Married. I’m an actual adult?”

“Richie sounds drunker than the three of us combined.” Bev snorts.

“Oh, shut the hell up, Beverly. You’re going to feel the same way on your wedding day. Probably.”

“Okay, so are you like… scared, excited, both?” Julie asks.

“Both, of course. I really love him,” Richie says.

“We know.” Stan rolls his eyes good-naturedly. 

“I’m mostly excited. Like, the wedding is going to be so much fun, but I know I’m going to cry… like, a lot, and most of the family we invited I’ve never met before, so that’s fun, but Eddie did background checks because you know you have to do that when they’re biologically related to Sonia…” Richie trails off. “Anyway, I mostly can’t wait. But I’m also nervous. Of crying.”

“That’s probably one of the best things you could be nervous about,” Julie says. “You’ll be fine, and you’ll do great. It’s going to be amazing.”

“I know.”

They don’t take him to a bar afterward, like they probably would if it weren’t for him still being in recovery. He thinks he’ll be in recovery forever, and he’s strangely okay with that. He doesn’t miss alcohol, or the affect it had on him. Instead of going to a bar, they take him back to Bev and Ben’s house (Ben is still out) for a couple 80s and 90s movies, and some more drinks… for Bev and Julie at least. Stan knocks out on the couch almost right away. Richie makes it a point to remind him how much of a lightweight he is in the morning.

In the morning. When he’ll have to start getting ready for his wedding. He’s getting married.

Bev turns off the TV. “Alright mister, you need to go to bed and get some beauty sleep for your wedding,” she says, giggling. 

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re drunk as fuck.”

“Shut up, Richard.”

“Yeah, shut up Bitchard,” Julie echoes, giggling and almost falling onto Bev.

“Okay, when you two have children one day, you best bet I am telling them how absolutely fucking wasted you two were at my bachelor party.”

“Do it,” Bev dares him. 

“I will.”

“And go to bed.”

“I will!”

Richie changes into a pair of sweatpants and a comfy t-shirt and then brushes his teeth. He hugs his pillow tight to his chest, so tight he can barely breathe, and plays out his and Eddie’s first dance as husbands over and over in his head until he falls asleep. 

* * *

“So, where are we going?” Eddie asks Mike, once they’ve picked up Bill and Ben.

“You’ll see,” Mike answers. 

“Come on, just tell me already.”

“Be grateful we’re not making you wear a blindfold,” Ben says. 

“Let me guess, Bev is making Richie wear one?”

“Y-yep,” Bill answers. 

“Where is she taking him?”

“That’s something fo-for y-you guys to t-t-talk about on your h-honeymoon.”

Eddie groans. “You guys won’t tell me anything.”

“That’s kind of the point of a surprise.”

Mike pulls up at-

“The casino? You guys are taking me to a casino?” Eddie asks. 

“Surprise!” Mike says. “Told you. Nothing too crazy, but still fun.”

“Aw, thanks so fucking much, guys. Let’s go be reckless. I can’t believe I just said that. Never quote me on that.”

“S-s-somebody get this m-man a drink.”

A few sweet drinks later, Eddie is trying his hand at a slot machine. “Bill! Bill, get over here, look how much I won!”

“H-holy shit,” Bill says. “J-jackpot.”

“Seven hundred dollars?” Mike asks, holding a beer. 

Eddie nods. “Holy shit, I gotta try again.”

“Looks like we’ve got a gambler on our hands, guys,” Ben says. 

“Shut up,” Eddie murmurs, trying the machine again. “Damn it! Someone else try, I want another drink.”

“Already got you covered, buddy,” Mike says, smiling and handing Eddie another tequila. 

“Thanks, Mike.”

Bill tries the slot machine and has no luck. Ben tries three times before Eddie cuts back in, with again, no luck. 

“Fuck this shit,” Eddie says. 

“Hold on, hold on. Let me try,” Mike says, handing Eddie his beer. “Six hundred dollars!”

“Six hundred? Great job, Mike!” 

Mike hands Eddie the ticket. “Happy wedding.” 

“Thanks.” Eddie smiles. They play a few more times without much luck, Bill wins a hundred and once again, gives it to Eddie because of the whole wedding thing. Eddie’s a little tipsy, and he keeps randomly remembering the fact that he’s getting married tomorrow- tomorrow? it’s past midnight, so today- and getting really happy about it. 

They cash in their tickets and Eddie pockets the money before they head to the restaurant for a few french fries and mac and cheese bites before they go back to Mike and Julie’s place. The plan is for Bev and Julie to pick up Emilia early that morning, and then for them and Stan to get Richie ready at Bev and Ben’s. Then, Mike, Ben, and Bill, will get Eddie ready at Julie and Mike’s, because the girls are going to have to _work_ on Richie’s hair. 

“Guys,” Eddie slurs. “Did you know… I’m getting married tomorrow?”

Ben snorts. He’s completely sober while they’re all wasted, and he finds this extremely hilarious. “No, no I didn’t. Please tell me about it.”

“Yeah. He’s the most wonderful guy… we went through some shit… wringer and back he told me. But it’s the ‘and back’ part that counts, y’know? Truly.”

“He sounds amazing.”

“Hot, too,” Eddie says, dipping a french fry in ketchup. “Mike, can you hand me my drink?”

“No, I think that’s enough,” Ben says, stepping in. “We don’t want you to be super hungover on your wedding day.”

“Oh yeah.” Eddie giggles. “Okay. Thanks.”

They pay the check and then Ben drives them back to Mike and Julie’s house. 

“What time is it?” Eddie slurs from the backseat. 

“Almost two. You’ve g-g-gotta b-be u-up in eight h-hours,” Bill replies. 

“Yeah. I’m getting married then?”

“You’re getting married in fourteen hours.”

“Oh. Yeah. Four p.m. ceremony? And the reception ends at ten…” he trails off. 

Ben helps him out of the car and into the guest room. Mike immediately retreats to his room, leaving Ben and Bill to the pullout couch. 

“Tomorrow is going to be one helluva day,” Ben says. 

“Y-y-yeah. I h-hope they ha-have f-f-f-fun.”

“They will. It’s going to be amazing.”

“Eddie! Eddie, y-you’re getting m-married! Wa-wake up!”

Eddie groans and rolls over.

“It’s te-ten minutes past ten, y-you’ve slept in, now g-get up!” Bill yells, oddly energetic.

“D-do I h-h-have to say it a-again? Y-you’re getting m-married!”

Eddie sits up, ignoring the slight pounding in his head. “I’m getting married.”

Bill nods. “Here’s some Advil, now go shower, you smell like the casino.”

Eddie stands up and takes the pill, heading to the bathroom to shower. 

“Okay, now apparently… we’re supposed to get you ready,” Mike says, sitting Eddie down in front of Julie’s vanity. “I don’t really know what we’re supposed to do here.”

“S-should we call B-bev?”

“I think we should call Bev,” Mike agrees.

“Where’s Ben?” Eddie asks. 

“He went on a coffee run, he’ll be back. Bill, call Bev.”

“Bill?” Bev asks groggily. “What’s up?”

“How the hell are we s-supposed to g-get Eddie r-ready?”

“Wait, you’re- shit. What time is it?”

“Uh… el-eleven.”

“Shit,” Bev says. “I overslept. _Fuck._ We have five hours. Five hours until the wedding. This is fine, this is fine, I can work with this- _RICHIE!”_

Bill winces as she screams. 

“What did you need, again?”

“Eddie. How do w-we help him g-get ready?”

“Oh, uhm… brush his hair and tame his curls, but not completely, not like he used to wear them back in middle school… just use water and comb them to make sure they aren’t frizzy and loosely frame his face. Just tell him to get dressed and then not wrinkle or stain his outfit, and you should be good.”

“Thanks, Bev.”

“Yeah no problem. Holy shit. _JULIE_!”

Bill hangs up, just as she screams Stan’s name.

A few moments later, they’re finished with Eddie’s hair. He puts on his tux, and then they’re pretty much done. 

“Okay, so n-now we just wait for f-f-five hours until we n-need to get to the v-venue?”

“Apparently.” Mike shrugs. “Eddie, you’ll just have to sit in a corner and watch TV or something while we get ready, then we can join you? Oh, and we have to take pictures, too!”

“I can’t watch TV,” Eddie says. “I have to call my grandma.”

“Well, that’s not gonna take five _hours_ -”

“That woman can talk, Mike. She can talk.”

Ben walks through the door, holding four cups of Starbucks. 

“J-jeez, B-ben, what t-took you s-so long?” Bill asks. 

“Sorry, there was a huge line, and then I had to go back home because everyone there also needed coffee… for some reason… bachelor parties, am I right? You guys got so wasted. It was hilarious. Anyway, Eddie, are you good to go?”

Eddie nods. “Yep, now I guess I’m just waiting on you guys.”

“Well, I guess we’ll go get ready, too.”

“I’ll be here.” Eddie sounds nonchalant, but he’s shaking with nerves. He can’t believe this is actually happening, he can’t believe how excited he is for it, and he can’t believe how crushingly- no. Not crushingly. He’s not crushingly in love anymore. And it’s not… it’s not hopeless love either. This love is beautiful, and reciprocated, brutal and honest, fierce and never ending. 

He’s wondrously in love. 

He… he believes it. 

He calls his grandma and resists the urge to call Richie, because they’re going to see each other in a few hours and he’s pretty sure that’s against the rules, too… whatever rules they’re playing by. He talks to his grandma for an hour or so, about the wedding, Emilia, and the honeymoon. She tells him a story or two from when she was his age, and he finds himself thoroughly enjoying them. He wishes he would’ve gotten to spend more time with his grandma before his mother went nutso after his dad died. But, well… life doesn’t always go perfectly as planned. Even with that said, things usually turn out okay. 

* * *

“Richie, wake up!” Bev yells, yanking the covers off him.

“Jeez, I’m up, I’m up. What time is it?”

“It’s _eleven_. I just called Ben, he’s bringing us coffee, don’t worry, this is all going to be fine. But- shit! We have to pick up Emilia, I have to go do that-”

Richie picks up his phone to find about eighty missed calls from his grandma. He ties his shoes hastily, calling her back on his way out the door. 

“It’s fine, Bev, I’ll get my daughter, just… set everything up, I guess? This is fine, we have five hours, I’m just worried about Em. Yeah, grandma, we overslept,” he says into the phone. “Yep, by a few hours. Is she okay? Yeah, I get that. Tell her I’ll be right there, and I love her, and I’m sorry. Okay. See you in a few.”

Richie presses the speed limit a little, but it’s his wedding day and he overslept and also forgot to pick up his daughter, so… maybe cut him a little bit of slack. 

Emilia jumps to hug him at the door. “Daddy, Daddy! We watched so many movies! And they were _so_ good! I even learneded a song! Animal crackers in my soup,” she sings. “Monkeys and rabbits loop the loop.”

“That’s amazing, Emilia! I love that song,” Richie tells her honestly. “Thank you so much for taking care of her, I really gotta go, but I’ll see you later, and we can catch up more at the wedding, okay?”

“Yes,” his grandma says. “And I’ll be seeing more of you two and your spouse, correct?”

“Of course. We’d love that. Right Em?”

“Mhm,” she nods, curls bouncing. “Love you, bye!”

“Love you, too, see you later!” Grandma waves from the door, and then Richie quickly straps Emilia in her carseat, making sure she’s secure so he can press the speed limit again.

“Daddy, are you okay?”

“Yes, plum.”

“Really?”

“I slept too late. Sometimes that happens, but on my wedding day, which is a very important day that I have to get ready for, it’s not good.”

“Oh,” Emilia says. “I hope you feel better.”

“Thanks, apricot.”

“I have returned with the child!” Richie says, holding Emilia how Rafiki holds Simba. 

“Okay, okay, put her down,” Julie says. 

Emilia giggles as she runs to hug her Aunt. “Hi!” 

“Hi, Em. Are you ready to get into your pretty dress?” 

Em nods. “I’m so excited! Am I gonna look like Shirley Temple?”

“Maybe a little,” Julie answers honestly.

“Yay!” Emilia exclaims. “Let’s go, let’s go!” She pulls Julie into the other room, not really knowing where she needs to go to find her dress. 

“Richard, come with me,” Bev says. “Okay, first shower, and then we can start on your hair.”

“Is everyone else showered?” 

“Yes,” Bev nods. “Stan is getting ready right now, Julie is getting Emilia ready, I’m getting you ready, and then Julie and I are getting ready. After that, it should be time to go.” 

“Shit,” Richie says. “Be right back.”

He takes a quick shower in the bathroom attached to the guest room, and then walks back into Bev’s room, where she sits him down in front of her vanity. She sprays detangler in his hair and then pulls a comb through it until it no longer hits any knots. She puts some anti-frizz product in it and then combs it again, then working some styling cream through his curls and scrunching it.

“Don’t touch it. I’m being very generous right now by not making you use the blow dryer. Now, let me pluck your eyebrows.”

Richie groans and hands her his tweezers, pulling off his glasses. “I use those to pluck my pubes.”

“No you don’t, that would hurt like hell.”

“True,” Richie admits, as she pulls out a few eyebrow hairs. “Ow! Fuck!”

“Hold still,” Bev tells him. 

“Okay, okay, that’s enough!” Richie yells. “You’re gonna make my whole face red.”

“Look at me. Okay, yeah, you’re good. Now, eat whatever you want to eat because once you get into your suit, you’re not eating anything until we sit down for dinner at the reception.”

Richie eats almost half a jar of peanut butter and two bananas. 

“I mean… whatever works for you,” Bev says. “Now change into your tux.”

“I thought it was a suit.”

“Suit, tux, blazer, whatever the hell you want to call it. What time is it?”

“Noon thirty.”

“Okay.” Bev walks out of the room. “Holy shit, you have to come look at Emilia.”

“What?” Richie says. “Is she okay?” He follows Bev into the second guest bedroom. 

“Hi, Daddy,” Em says, looking down, a little shyly. “Pretty?”

“Beautiful,” he tells her. “Always, but wow. Look at your little curls, and your pretty dress? You look great, apricot.”

“Thank you.” She hugs him, careful not to wrinkle her dress. It’s white, with a silver stripe around her waist, and a design of flowers going down the skirt. Her hair is pulled up, out of her face and braided into a little updo, a few curls left out to frame her face in ringlets. “I have lipgloss on, too.”

“Wow, you’re so grown up,” Richie says, glad she’s not actually wearing lip gloss like… for real. This is only a very special occasion, she’s not going out into the world wearing lip gloss like a teenager. “Julie, you did so well, I didn’t know you could do hair like that.”

Julie shrugs. “I like art, and I just consider this another form of it.”

“Seriously, you’re so good, like… is this just a hobby?” Richie continues.

“For now, yeah. I’m still selling my art for a living, but if that doesn’t work out then… I guess I could style people’s hair.” She shrugs, smiling. 

“Yeah. Well, Bev’s probably already mad because we stayed here too long. I have to get into my tux, but then I think I’m pretty much good to sit in a corner.”

“Okay, your curls are starting to frizz, let me play with them a little more…” She sprays a bit of water on his head and combs through his loose curls a few times. “Now don’t move. Except, put on your tux. But then, sit in a corner, and don’t move.”

Richie salutes. “Sir, yes, sir.” 

“I’m not going to smack you on the back of the neck, because that would mess up your hair, but if you get smacked in the face later on in life, it’s for this.”

Richie nods. 

“Don’t move your head like that!”

“Okay, jeez.”

“I’m going to see how Stan’s doing. Get dressed. I’ll be back.”

“Have fun, _Mom_.”

Bev flips him the finger.

Richie buttons up his shirt and tucks it into his white dress pants, pulling on his blazer and buttoning the top button. 

He looks at himself in the mirror, at his newly plucked eyebrows, styled hair, and custom-made suit. 

“Wow, Richie, you clean up nicely,” Stan says, walking into the room. 

“Stan the Man!” Richie exclaims. “Wow, look, your curls aren’t as frizzy either! Did Bev finally get to you about that?”

“Oh, shut up, they were never frizzy.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure…” Richie makes an iffy noise.

“Shut up.”

“Wow, Stanley. Being so rude, on my wedding day? What a disgrace.”

“Richie, shut up,” Bev says. “Can I trust you out of my sight?”

“Probably not,” Richie admits.

“Stan, can you watch him? Julie and I have to get ready.”

“Sure.” Stan shrugs, and Emilia walks into the room right after Bev leaves. “Hi, Em.”

“Hi, Uncle Stan.” She hoists herself up onto the bed and then sits elegantly next to her dad, careful not to wrinkle her dress. “TV?” she asks, pointing at Ben and Bev’s small TV in the corner of their room. 

Richie looks at Stan, who shrugs. “I mean, we’re probably allowed,” he says.

Stan picks up the remote and lets Emilia fiddle with the channels before settling on Bubble Guppies. 

“This is her new favorite show, isn’t it?” Stan asks. 

“Yep,” Richie confirms. “She’s obsessed.”

“Obsessed?”

“It means you really, really love something.”

“Daddy’s obsessed with Dada,” Emilia states.

Stan snorts while Richie’s mouth opens and closes like a fish.

“Can’t deny that one, can ya Tozier? Kinda set yourself up, too,” Stan says.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. Uncle Stan is obsessed with Uncle Bill, did you know that Emilia?” 

“Yes,” she says. “I did.”

Stan laughs again. “I can laugh at myself. You just get defensive.”

“No I don’t!”

“You literally just proved my point.”

“Are you guys seriously fighting again?” Bev asks, walking into the room.

“Holy shit, Bev,” Richie says. “Ben’s going to flip his shit.”

“Yeah,” Stan agrees. “I don’t even like girls, but wow.”

Bev is wearing a teal bridesmaid dress with a v-neck and a slit up the leg. The rest of the fabric gathers around that slit, and it looks quite breathtaking. Her hair is curled perfectly, and her makeup looks amazing as well. She did a lighter teal eyelook with some stunning eyeliner, and her highlight is… blinding, to say the least. 

Julie walks in after her. 

“Well, shit, Juliard, now Mike’s gonna flip his shit, too. Everyone’s going to be flipping their shit-”

“Wait ‘til you see Eddie,” Bev says. 

Richie shuts up.

Julie is wearing a similar dress to Bev, same v-neck, but hers is a two-piece, showing a little skin at the waist instead of having a slit up her leg. Her long blonde hair is hollywood-curled, and Richie knows she did that herself, but it only took her, what? An hour to get it that perfect? Holy shit. Her makeup is again, similar to Bev’s, and looks just as stunning. 

“Aunty Bev and Aunty Julie, you look very pretty,” Emilia comments.

“Thanks, kid,” Bev says. “You look good, too.”

Emilia giggles. 

“Are we ready to go?”

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand!” Richie yells. “And by blow I mean-”

“Your daughter is _literally_ standing right here!” Julie exclaims. 

Richie just laughs. 

* * *

Eddie’s sweating buckets, and smiling wider than he’s ever smiled in his entire life. 

“You got this,” Bev says, giving him a one-armed hug so she doesn’t get makeup on his suit. 

“Are you alright,” Mike asks, turning to look at him.

Eddie nods. “Just… starstruck? I can’t believe… after everything… I…”

“Shit, Mike, we gotta go,” Bev says, taking Mike’s arm. “See you down there!” She watches Emilia walk down the aisle, throwing flower petals out of her basket with glee.

Eddie takes a deep breath to calm his nerves. Why the hell is he so nervous? He loves Richie with all his heart, and he wants this more than anything. He _has_ wanted this for so long now.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe… because after you settle down and find love and have a baby… what else is there to life? 

_No, Eddie. You will not have an existential crisis at your own fucking wedding._

“Eddie, you good?” Stan asks. “You’re almost up.”

Bill smiles encouragingly at him. 

“I’m wonderful,” Eddie answers. If he could just get out of his own head, he’d be even better. 

He takes another deep breath, and watches Stan and Bill walk down the aisle before him. 

Holy _shit_ , this is happening. 

_Run._

_Hide._

Face it. 

_Love._

Eddie walks down the aisle at what he hopes is a regular pace, but everyone’s eyes are on him, and he really just wants to get to Richie. 

_Richie._ Eddie doesn’t know why he ever insisted Richie not wear white. He looks gorgeous, angelic really, with his white tux, styled hair and wide brown eyes. Eddie finally reaches the altar, and steps up, Richie taking his hand and helping him. 

Richie takes both of Eddie’s hands in his, and takes a moment to memorize every detail of this scene. Eddie’s hair is curled extremely beautifully, and it looks absolutely effortless. To be honest, it probably was. Eddie’s brown eyes are wide and nervous and excited, but most of all, loving.

They _love_. 

“You look… angelic,” Eddie whispers, before he can stop himself. 

Richie snorts against his will. “I’m quoting you on that.”

The wedding officiant starts his speech, but Richie and Eddie tune him out, way too caught up in each other. 

“Now, Richie, you may say your vows.”

Richie takes a deep breath. “Ah jeez, where do I even begin? I… Eddie, I love you so much. When we first met, I was an annoying firecracker of a five-year-old, and you were scared to go on the swingset. I reassured you that everything would be alright, and you let me push you, and well… that’s where it all started. High school, I’ll be honest, high school was hell, but you got me through it.” Richie chokes up. “I don’t know where I’d be today if it wasn’t for you. We.. we’ve been through some stuff.”

Eddie smiles, squeezing his hands and nodding, urging him to keep going. 

“We’ve been through the wringer, Eds, and back… and it’s the and back that counts. And… I hope, if you quote me on anything I say, it’s that. You’ve always wanted what’s best for me, and after… after all this time- you’re still here, and you’ve accepted me and my life and my daughter, and I’m so grateful for that. You’re amazing Eds, that’s what I’m trying to say. I love you, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Now, Eddie,” the officiant says. 

Eddie inhales. “Okay. Um. Hi,” he stammers. Richie smiles, and Eddie loosens up a bit. “Yeah, that day on the swingset was fun wasn’t it? I love you, Richie. I’ve always loved you. When you snorted milk out of your nose in fourth grade, I loved you then. When we were thirteen, and I broke my arm, and some jerk signed it “Loser” and you changed the ‘s’ to a ‘v,’ I loved you then. When I left for college, I… I loved you then. And I love you now, and will continue to love you, for the rest of my life.”

“Richie, repeat after me. I, Richard Tozier…” 

“I, Richard Tozier, take Edward Kaspbrak to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richier, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”

“Eddie, repeat after me. I, Edward Kaspbrak…”

“I, Edward Kaspbrak, take Richard Tozier, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richier, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”

Bev and Mike hand over the rings.

“Richie, take this ring and put it on Eddie’s finger. Repeat after me…” 

“Eddie, I give you this ring as a symbol of the promise I made to you today.”

Eddie does the same to Richie, happy tears filling his eyes.

“Having pledged your love and promise to one another today in front of all of your friends and family and by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may now kiss the groom.”

The words are barely out of the officiant’s mouth before Richie brings his hands up to Eddie’s face and kisses him. Eddie closes his eyes and leans into it, tilting his head up and opening his mouth slightly. He can vaguely make out everyone cheering in the background, but all he really feels is Richie.

They finally pull away, and then walk down the aisle holding hands, officially husbands. 

“Are you ready to take a shit ton of pictures?” Richie asks, smirking. 

Eddie nods. “Definitely.” He doesn’t think he’s ever been any happier than he is in this moment.

“Dada!” Emilia says, running up to him. 

“Hi, baby,” Eddie says, hugging her.

“Happy wedding!” she tells him enthusiastically. “Did I do good with the rings and the flowers?”

“You did amazing,” Richie says. 

“Congratulations, Richie,” Grandma tells him, giving him a hug. “And nice to meet you, Eddie. I trust we’ll be seeing more of each other when you get back from your honeymoon?”

“That would be amazing, Ms…”

“Oh, everyone calls me Grandma now.”

“Grandma,” Eddie finishes, smiling. 

He greets his grandma as well as his aunts, uncles, and their children. The Losers all pose with them for pictures, and then they take some shots of the three of them, and then just Richie and Eddie. 

“Okay, enough pictures, can we party already, gosh,” Richie says. 

“You’re so impatient,” Eddie tells him. 

“Yes, we’re done with pictures,” Bev says. “We’re going to take Em with us, so enjoy your alone time in the limo.”

Richie and Eddie walk to the parking lot and get in the back of the limo for the relatively short drive to the reception place. 

“Eds Spagheds, I love you so much.”

“Why did I marry you?” Eddie rolls his eyes. 

“Because you love me, too.”

“Maybe. Just a little.” 

Richie kisses him, and Eddie brings his hands up to run through Richie’s hair. Richie hopes Bev isn’t too pissed for his curls being a little make-out-messy, but he will definitely take Bev being mad over not kissing Eddie any day. They arrive at the reception venue all too soon, but Richie has to admit, he is a little hungry. Oh, and he’s extremely eager for his and Eddie’s first dance. 

They wait outside the room where everyone is seated for a few moments. Emilia enters with Bev and Mike, and the rest of them follow the order from earlier.

“Are you ready to dance, Eds?”

Eddie nods, blushing a bit. “Don’t step on my feet, Tozier.”

“Hey, it’s Tozier-Kaspbrak to you, mister.”

“Please welcome, Mr. and Mr. Tozier-Kaspbrak!”

They walk in, hand in hand, and stand on the dance floor while the music starts playing.

Eddie gets emotional all over again. 

_We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January_

_This is our place, we make the rules_

_And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear_

_Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?_

“The Christmas lights are still up…” Richie remarks. 

Eddie sniffs and rests his head on Richie’s shoulder, holding his arms around Richie’s waist while Richie hooks his around Eddie’s neck. 

_Can I go where you go?_

_Can we always be this close forever and ever?_

_And ah, take me out, and take me home_

_You're my, my, my, my lover_

“Rich?”

“Mm?”

“When you wrote that on my cast… did you ever think that… you’d… I don’t know, be my lover? That we’d be here.”

“Every minute, baby. Every damn minute.”

_We could let our friends crash in the living room_

_This is our place, we make the call_

_And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you_

_I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all_

_Can I go where you go?_

_Can we always be this close forever and ever?_

_And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever)_

_You're my, my, my, my lover_

Eddie sniffs again, feeling his eyes fill with happy tears. “Richie…”

“What, baby?”

“I can’t… I can’t… I can’t believe after everything, we made it out, and we’re here, we’re in love, we have a daughter and family and we’re happy and I’m accepting it. I’m accepting that I can be happy. I’m not looking for problems. I’m just living, and breathing, and loving you.”

“You better believe it, Eds. I’m loving you, too.”

_Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?_

_With every guitar string scar on my hand_

_I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover_

_My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue_

_All's well that ends well to end up with you_

_Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover_

_And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me_

_And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover_

“Wow, this song was made for us, wasn’t it?” Richie asks, pulling Eddie even closer than they already are. 

“I think so,” Eddie mumbles. 

_Can I go where you go?_

_Can we always be this close forever and ever?_

_And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever)_

_You're my, my, my, my_

_Oh, you're my, my, my, my_

_Darling, you're my, my, my, my…_

“Lover,” Richie sings the last line in Eddie’s ear.

Everybody claps for them as they make their way back to their seats with the rest of the Losers. Richie takes the microphone from the DJ to start his welcome speech. 

“Hi, everyone! I’m going to keep this short and simple because I know you all must be hungry. Thank you all so much for coming to see Eds Spagheds and I get married-”

“That’s not my name,” Eddie says into the mic.

“He’s still very happy about this whole marriage thing, don’t mind him.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes. 

“Anyway, thanks for coming, and I hope you all enjoy the food and music! That’s all.” He hands the mic back to the DJ and then sits down. 

“Amazing, speech, Rich,” Bev says sarcastically.

“Yes, you should win an Oscar,” Stan agrees. 

“Why thank you,” Richie says in a British accent. 

“Daddy, I’m hungry,” Emilia says. 

“Dinner will be here in a minute, cookie.”

“Oh, want me to switch seats with her so you can help her?” Bev asks. 

Richie nods. “That would be cool.”

Bev and Emilia switch seats, just as the salads arrive. 

“Lettuce!” Emilia exclaims.

“Good lettuce,” Richie tells her. “The light green is the good stuff-”

“Okay, stop planting that logic in her mind,” Eddie cuts him off. “All lettuce is good, sweetie.”

“Okay!” Emilia shrugs and pours some ranch on her salad, picking up her fork and munching on a crouton. 

“Richie, we have to eat fairly quickly because we have to go mingle with the guests and things, but don’t get anything on the white suit that I very generously allowed you to wear.”

“You mean the white suit you lost your shit over as soon as you walked in the room? Don’t think I didn’t catch your jaw drop.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he’s blushing.

When Richie and Eddie finish their spaghetti, because of course, that’s what Richie insisted on having, they clean Emilia’s face and bring her with them to make rounds to all the tables. 

“Oh, you’re so adorable!” Eddie’s Aunt Sabrina gushes. “What’s your name?”

“Emilia,” Em says. “But, you can call me Emmy!”

“Hi, Emmy,” Mason says shyly. He’s Eddie’s Aunt’s daughter’s son. Hell, that’s a lot to keep track of.

“Hi!” Emilia replies. 

“Well, congratulations, you two,” Aunt Sabrina says. 

“Thank you,” Eddie says, nudging Richie to say the same. 

“Yes, thank you! Sorry, she just looks so much like Sonia,” Richie adds, when they’ve walked away.

“Yeah, but she’s not a bitch. I look a little like my mom, don’t I? And you still love me.”

“That’s ‘cuz your mom was smoking hot, Eds.”

“I set myself up for that one.”

“You kind of did.”

They make their rounds to the rest of the tables, Emilia making friends with her distant cousins and most of the adults, before returning back to where the Losers are seated. Bev stands up and takes the microphone from the DJ, ready to give her speech as the maid of honor.

“Okay, I’m going to start off by thanking both Richie and Eddie for letting me be a part of their wedding party, and letting me help them plan this thing, _and_ letting me make their suits.”

“Oh, we should be thanking you, Bev!” Richie yells. 

“Shut up, Richie. As I was saying, I’ve known Richie for the past 10 years, and there is never a boring day with him. We met when we were thirteen years old, and Ben had just gotten cut up by the local bully. While Eddie was trying to fix him up with bandages and things, Richie was yelling at him and flirting with him in a horrible British accent, one that he _still_ does, by the way.” Everyone laughs. “They’ve only grown since then. Emilia came into Richie’s life almost five years ago now, and I have never been more appreciative of a child in my life. Em, would you say hi to everybody?”

“Cookie, say hi,” Richie prompts. 

She waves happily at the crowd.

“Yeah, she’s my honorary niece, and I feel so proud to hold the title as her aunt. Jeez, okay, Eddie and Richie have a beautiful love story that continues to surprise me every single day. I can’t wait to see them continue to learn and grow with each other. Okay, this is getting sappy. I need a drink. Love you guys!” She holds up a peace sign and then hands the microphone over to Mike.

“Hi everyone,” Mike says, standing confidently on the dance floor. “Thanks for letting me stand here and tell really embarrassing stories about you two. Like that one time, when Eddie wouldn’t stop talking about gazebo-”

“Mike!” Eddie exclaims, laughing. 

“I’m just kidding, I’m just kidding,” Mike reassures him. “Seriously. Thank you guys for letting me be a part of your wedding. You guys are two of my best friends, and I’m so happy to see you two happy together, after what feels like forever. I met Eddie when we were thirteen, and we were having a rock war against the local bullies. Yeah, they really roughed us up back in the day, but we’re here now, aren’t we? Eddie always had this fire in him, and I can still see it now in the way he looks at Richie. They’re perfect for each other, really.”

“Too sappy!” Bev yells from the bar.

“Sorry!” Mike says back. “Anyway, I’m so happy you guys are finally here. I’m going to follow Bev to the bar. Bye!”

Eddie laughs, and then Bill decides to be an asshole and tap his fork to his glass for a minute straight, causing Richie and Eddie to embarass themselves in front of a lot of family. But the glass wouldn’t stop fucking ringing!

The DJ plays a few 2000s throwbacks, and Richie dances with Emilia to “Airplanes” and “Mr. Saxobeat.” Eddie dances with her to “Tonight Tonight” and “Party in the U.S.A.” Emilia then proceeds to dance with the rest of the Losers, and “Single Ladies” comes on, which is her _favorite_ song as of late. She, Bev, and Julie have a good time dancing to that one, Mike and Ben standing proudly on the side.

“Daddy, I’m thirsty,” Emilia says, tugging on Richie’s pant leg. 

“Oh, remember that treat I told you about?”

Emilia nods. 

“Do you want one?”

“Of course!”

Richie picks her up and takes her over to the bar. 

“Two kiddie cocktails please,” Richie says proudly. The bartender starts mixing. 

“What’s in it?” Emilia asks curiously. 

“Cherry juice and Sprite,” Richie tells her.

“I love cherries!” 

“I know you do, cookie.” Richie thanks the bartender and then goes back to their table with Emilia. 

He sips his mocktail happily, watching her face light up as she drinks hers. 

“This is really good!”

“Not too fast, you’ll get a tummy ache,” Richie warns her.

She slows down a bit.

“Hey,” Eddie says, breathing heavily and sitting down next to his husband. 

“Hi. What’s up?”

“I wanna slow dance again.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“How many drinks have you had?”

“Like, three, I’m fine.”

“You’re a lightweight, Eds,” Richie says, teasing. 

“I’m fine. Come dance with me.”

“Okay. Emilia, stay right here, okay?”

She nods, content to finish drinking her kiddie cocktail.

They slow dance for a bit, and then “Don’t Stop Believing” comes on, and Richie all out drags Emilia onto the dance floor, because she grew up on this shit. This and Sarah McLachlan.

“Don’t stop believing!” Emilia yells.

“Hold on to the feeling!” Richie screams back, over the music. 

“Sweet Caroline” is next, and Emilia and Mason have a good time finishing off the little bubble wands they were given earlier and screaming out the “bum bum bums.”

Richie and Eddie decide it’s time to cut the cake, and they both end up with chocolate all over their mouths. Emilia runs up to join them and get her fill too, and Richie happily lets her finish his slice.

The upbeat music has started up again, but their photographer wants them to go outside and take some night time pictures by the gazebo. Eddie makes sure Em is with Bev and / or Julie and then follows Richie outside. 

“Gazebo, get it Eds? Gazebo means bullshit.”

“Shut up, Richie. I had just learned what that word meant.”

“You always get so defensive when you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” Eddie states. 

“Okay, smile!”

Emilia somehow gets another kiddie cocktail without Richie or Eddie knowing, and she and Mason are now happily coloring on napkins underneath one of the tables. Richie and Eddie continue to dance and mingle for a while longer, before the music slows down again, and people start to trickle out. 

“Where’s Emilia?” Richie asks Bev, walking over to her from across the dance floor.

Bev shrugs. “I thought you had her.”

“Fuck, Eds, we lost our daughter.”

“No, you didn’t,” Stan says. “Come here.”

Ben laughs a little, standing near a table with Eddie’s cousin. 

“U-under the t-table,” Bill says. 

Eddie crouches down and looks under the table, to find Emilia asleep, curled up with a crayon still held loosely in her hand. 

“She got mocktail wasted,” Julie says. 

“Julie!” Mike says, laughing.

“What?”

“Well, as long as she’s okay. Seems like a pretty nice place to nap if you ask me,” Richie says, shrugging.

The rest of the guests slowly leave, and soon, it’s just the Losers. 

“Always the last to close down the party, am I right guys?” Eddie says, slinging an arm over Richie’s shoulder.

“Eddie, this is your wedding,” Stan states.

“I know.”

“I think he needs to sleep. Two nights out in a row, both with tons of booze? And then they’re going to Hawaii, where there’s going to be even more booze-”

“Bev,” Richie says tightly, giving her a pointed look.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. That was insensitive.” She gives him a hug. “Yeah. Jeez. Fuck. You’ve been doing so amazing, too.”

“I know. It’s fine. Relax,” Richie tells her. 

“So… is this it? Do we like- we’re married?”

“We’re married,” Richie confirms.

“Fuck yeah!” Eddie exclaims, kissing his cheek. “Husbands for life.”

“Somebody take his drink.”

“Hey, I’m not drunk,” Eddie insists.

“Eddie, ho-how m-m-many have you h-h-had?”

“Like… six…?”

“Lightweight,” Stan coughs. 

“Shut up. You guys are children.”

“Speaking of children,” Richie says. “We have one. And we should probably get her home. Luckily, I can drive.”

“Yeah?” Ben teases. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Okay, maybe not well, but I can do it legally!”

Eddie leans his head on Richie’s shoulder and yawns. 

“I have two children.”

“Shut up!”

“Okay, I love you guys. Seriously, thanks for helping me plan this and dealing with me for the past ten years, if you knew me when Eddie left for college, so everyone except Juliard, I’m very sorry, and thank you… I already said thank you. You guys are the best.”

“The best,” Eddie slurs. 

“Okay, okay, bring it in,” Bev says, pulling Richie into a hug. Eddie latches onto her as well, and then pulls Mike in, who pulls Julie in, and then they’re all hugging, and maybe Eddie’s crying, and he doesn’t quite know why, but he’s okay with it, for the first time in a while. 

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, before we board the plane, okay?”

“Okay.”

Richie kneels down next to the table Emilia is asleep under. He picks her up gently, holding her tightly with both hands.

She sniffs lightly and tilts her head. “Daddy?”

“Yeah, baby. Go back to sleep.”

“ ‘kay.”

He straps Em into her carseat while Eddie gets into the front seat.

“We just did that,” Eddie says, almost to himself.

“Yep,” Richie says, holding his hand up and kissing his knuckles. “I’m so fucking happy.”

“Me too.”

“Richie and Eddie Tozier-Kaspbrak.”

“Eddie and Richie Tozier-Kaspbrak.”

Richie laughs. “I think I fall in love more every minute.”

“Every minute or every second?”

“Hm… maybe every nanosecond.”

“Is there something smaller than a nanosecond?”

“Baby, you’re drunk.”

“Okay.”

They arrive safely at _home_.

* * *

Richie and Eddie spend the next day hanging out with Emilia as much as they possibly can while also cleaning and tidying up the house a little bit. They drop her off at Bev and Ben’s at seven so they can get to the airport and through security in time for their nine o’clock flight.

“Okay, so… like, you know a lot of statistics and stuff, are… we’re gonna crash the fucking plane,” Richie says nervously, as they wait in line to board. “This is a twelve hour flight, I-”

“Richie, are you afraid of flying?” Eddie asks incredulously. 

“No! I just… like to be on the ground! And I may or may not puke if I look out the window. But, like, I know it’s all going to be worth it when we get to Hawaii and shit, so-”

“Hang on, hang on.” Eddie opens his carry-on bag and pulls out the plastic bag filled with medicine. “NyQuil,” he says, filling up the cap and handing it to Richie. 

“Eds, I don’t-” Eddie glares at him. “Fine.” He downs the liquid like a shot, handing the cup back to Eddie. 

Richie falls asleep a bit after take-off, his head on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie tries to follow in his footsteps, but resorts to watching a movie on the app that tracks the flight. He nods off sometime in the middle of that, waking up when sunlight streams through the window. He pulls out his phone to check the time: eight a.m. He straightens, looking out the window at the clouds and taking a few pictures to send to the Losers once they have WiFi again. 

A flight attendant comes around, and Eddie orders a mimosa and a Sprite because it’s vacation, he can drink what he wants when he wants. 

“ _Richie_.” Eddie lightly hits Richie’s arm. 

“Ng,” Richie mumbles, hiding his face in Eddie’s shirt sleeve. 

“We’re almost there, you’ve been asleep the entire flight.”

Richie picks his head up, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, ‘cuz you fucking drugged me.”

Eddie freezes at the mention of drugs, even though NyQuil isn’t dangerous, it’s still a sensitive topic for him. He’s surprised Richie would make a joke about it.

“Fuck, sorry, Eds, I didn’t mean it like that-”

“I know,” Eddie cuts him off. “You’re fine. How did you sleep?”

Richie makes a so-so motion. “What time is it?”

“Eight thirty. I ordered you a Sprite.”

“Thanks,” Richie says, taking a drink. He gives Eddie a quick kiss, and they spend the rest of the flight looking out the window, Eddie comforting Richie by showing him the beautiful landscape. 

“It even smells good here, holy shit,” Richie says, the minute they step out of the airplane. 

“Agreed.” Eddie takes a deep breath. 

The ride to their resort is about an hour long, and Hawaii is six hours behind them, so it’s around five in the morning when they get there. 

“What time does the breakfast buffet open, do you think?” Richie asks. 

“Probably around seven,” Eddie replies. 

“Two hours! Eds, I’m starving!”

Eddie rolls his eyes and hands him a granola bar. “You’re fine.”

They check in and spend a couple hours longing in the hotel room, texting Beverly and Ben about Emilia. 

“Okay, can we go get breakfast now, I’m _starving_ ,” Richie complains. 

Eddie laughs. “Sure.”

“Richie, you’re literally a child,” Eddie says, when Richie walks back to their table with a plate of nutella waffles and a glass of apple juice.

“They’re good, okay? Come on, I’ve been so adult lately, give me a break.”

“Yes, very adult,” Eddie muses sarcastically. “You just got married.”

“I am well aware.” Richie laces his fingers with Eddie’s and they share a smile before Richie goes back to attacking his waffles.

“Slow down, you’re going to get a stomach ache,” Eddie reminds him.

Richie just shrugs, chugging his apple juice. “I’m just so fucking excited to be here, y’know? Okay, beach or pool?”

“Hm… both have their pros and cons…”

“No, I mean, which one do you want to go to first?”

“I’m thinking!”

Richie laughs, finishing off his waffle.

“Pool,” Eddie finally says, taking a bite of his omelet. 

“Sounds good to me,” Richie says. 

They head back to the room to get in their swimsuits. 

“Richie. You’re not going to go out in public wearing that, are you?” 

Richie stands there in his swim trunks with a cat riding a shark that’s barfing up a rainbow in a galaxy on them. “Yes, I was planning on it, Eduardo, why?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Those are absolutely obnoxious.”

“They are the epitome of class,” Richie argues. 

Eddie laughs. “Whatever you say.”

They claim a spot close to the swim-up bar but also close to the beach, claiming it with towels, shoes, and a small bag for Richie’s glasses. Richie immediately jumps in the water, creating a huge splash and disturbing a girl floating on a raft nearby. 

“Sorry!” Eddie says quickly, but she just laughs. 

“It’s all good, I was just as excited on our first day.” Another girl comes up behind her, blonde and beautiful. She wraps her arms around the brunette’s waist. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” the brunette replies with a smile, getting situated on her raft once again. 

“Eds, I got us strawberry daiquiris! I need you to try both of them ‘cuz I mixed up which ones got alcohol and which one doesn’t…”

Eddie laughs and takes the drinks. He sips one and immediately hands it to Richie. “Way too sweet. That one’s yours. Richie, did you put sunscreen on?”

“Nope,” Richie replies. “I don’t burn, baby.”

“Now that is the biggest lie I’ve heard in a while. I tan pretty easily, and I put on sunscreen. Just wear some. You’re going to get skin cancer.”

“No, I’m not,” Richie argues. 

“Okay, well, when you can’t sleep tonight because you’re burnt as fuck, don’t wake me up.”

Richie shrugs, taking a sip of his drink and sitting down on one of the bar stools. He motions for Eddie to sit down next to him and swings an arm over his shoulder.

“I love you,” he says, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s cheek.

“Me too, but I can’t fathom why.”

Richie finishes his drink before Eddie and swims around the small pool area just to get his hair wet. He comes back and meets Eddie by the bar, draping himself over Eddie’s shoulders. 

“Shit, Richie!” Eddie yells. “You’re cold!”

“That’s kinda the point,” Richie murmurs into Eddie’s back. “Come in the pool with me.”

“I am.”

“No, like, get your hair wet.”

Eddie sighs and sets his drink down, letting Richie pull him into the water. Richie wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist and kisses his neck lightly, and then dunks Eddie against his will. Eddie comes out of the water, hair dripping. Water clumps his long eyelashes together. 

“Aw, Eds, you look pretty,” Richie says. 

Eddie splashes him. “Fuck you, Richie.”

“Okay, but save that for later-”

“ _Richie_ !” Eddie splashes him again. “I can’t believe I _married_ you.”

“Your mom would be so disappointed,” Richie tsks, shaking his head. Eddie pauses for a minute, and Richie feels it. “Sorry, Eddie, did I go too far, I didn’t-”

“No, it’s fine. She would be. And I think… I hope… I’d still be proud.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

They spend the rest of the morning in the pool and at the swim-up bar, and then Richie requests that they go to the beach. Eddie says yes, and Richie drags him down by the water. The wind blows Richie’s hair back, and it curls beautifully at the nape of his neck. Eddie brings his hands up, pulling them through Richie’s hair and unknotting it gently. 

“It’s just gonna get messy again in the water,” Richie says, smiling. 

“I know, I just like it.”

“You admit it! Eds just admitted that he likes me!”

“We are actually husbands, Richie.”

Richie shrugs, grabbing Eddie’s hand and pulling him into the water. They step over a couple rocks and shells at first, but then the sand evens out and Eddie sinks his feet into it, daring to walk in up to his shoulders.

“Eddie, I-”

“Richie, if you make a short joke I will drag you back to the pool.”

“I wasn’t gonna!” Richie dunks his head under the water and then comes up, shaking his hair out. “The water is so clear, you gotta check this out, Eds,” Richie says, grabbing Eddie’s hand. 

Eddie follows Richie under the water, hesitantly opening his eyes. He can see Richie pretty clearly, although the salt in the water irritates his eyes a little bit. He comes back up, titling his head to the side to drain the water out of his ears. 

“You’re right, it’s really clear.” 

“Holy shit, Eds, look,” Richie says, completely awestruck. He grabs Eddie’s arm and points to a spot just in front of them, where a school of fish are swimming around. “Do you think we can get any closer?”

“You can try. We’re already pretty close.”

Richie inches his way forward, and the fish instantly scatter. “Damn it. Maybe we’ll see them tomorrow. I’m hungry.”

“Again?” Eddie teases. 

“Shut up.”

They get burgers at a place next to the pool, they serve lunch from noon to three o’clock. They decide to head back to their original spot and sunbathe for a while. Well, Eddie wants to sunbathe and Richie is just waiting until he gets hot enough where the pool will feel refreshing. 

“Richie, you’ve gotta put some sunscreen on. You’re burning up.”

“No, I’m fine. ‘sides, Eds, the sun’s goin’ down,” Richie says into the chair he’s lying on. “S’ghetti, I wanna build a sandcastle.”

“Tomorrow, baby,” Eddie tells him, throwing a towel over Richie’s back as he dozes off. They’re still a bit jet lagged. Eddie is hoping they’ll be on track with the timezone tomorrow, or they’ll just have to nap. Either one works.

An hour or two later, they’ve each got another daiquiri and are heading back to the room to get dressed for dinner. For the first night, they eat at the gourmet pizza place. Eddie orders a personal pan pizza with caramelized onions and goat cheese, while Richie orders a slice of their four meat pizza. 

“Fuck, that was good,” Richie says. 

Eddie’s on his fifth drink that day and things are starting to go a bit fuzzy around the edges. He’s not gonna pass out or anything, he just feels a little floaty and not all there. Richie thinks it’s adorable. 

“So, I’m gonna take that as a no on going clubbing tonight?”

Eddie shakes his head, smiling and hiding his face in Richie’s shoulder. 

Richie lifts Eddie’s chin up and kisses him lightly, pulling away all too soon. Eddie chases his lips hungrily, planting open mouthed kisses on the parts of his face he can reach.

“Woah there tiger,” Richie jokes. “You wanna go back to the room?”

Eddie nods, and as soon as the door closes, he unbuttons Richie’s shirt, kissing him hard and fast against the wall. Richie’s fingers grab Eddie’s thighs, and he pulls him up so Eddie’s legs are wrapped around Richie’s waist.

“I love you,” Eddie says, breathing heavily. 

“And I you.”

“Cheesy motherfucker.”

* * *

The next day, Richie shoves a couple of pieces of breakfast bread in his bag. When Eddie questions him, he doesn’t say anything, claiming it’s a surprise.

Richie borrows snorkeling gear from the men at the beach lending it out. He hands a mask and mouthpiece to Eddie, walking into the water.

“Richie, are you kidding? Do you know how many germs are on this thing? I mean, I could get a p-”

“Eds, just relax. The water will wash it off, trust me.”

“Richie, what are you doing?”

“Trust me.” He pulls the bread out of his bag and then throws the back up by their stuff. 

Eddie’s face softens. “You’re going to feed the fish.”

Richie nods. 

They swim out to where they were yesterday, and sure enough, the school of bright blue and yellow striped fish are swimming around. 

Richie breaks a piece of bread and throws it to them. A few startle, but then begin to fight each other for the bread. Richie laughs. “Eds, this is amazing, look, are you seeing this?”

Eddie nods, grinning. “Yep, I’m seeing it.”

Richie breaks off another piece of bread. “Do you think I can get them to eat from my hand?” He holds the bread just above the water, and a few of the fish tentatively nip at it. “Holy shit his tail brushed my hand!” Richie drops the bread, the fish scamper for it quickly. “Do you want to try?” Richie looks up at Eddie, pure joy in his eyes. 

Eddie nods and takes a piece of bread from Richie, holding it out to the fish. They eat it straight out of his hand. “Shit. That feels nice.”

They finish off the rest of the bread, and then put their goggles and snorkels on and follow the fish back to their coral reef. They find a few other species of fish, but the blue and yellow ones are by far Eddie’s favorite. 

They go to an Italian place for dinner that night, and Eddie has perhaps a bit too much to drink. 

“Eddie, you’d think that with all this alcohol you’re consuming, you wouldn’t be so much of a lightweight anymore,” Richie teases, playing with a strand of Eddie’s hair.

“And you’d think that with how sunburned you’ve gotten you’d finally wear sunscreen,” Eddie slurs. 

As they’re getting ready for bed that night, Richie realizes Eddie is right. He is burnt to a crisp. He touches his shoulder lightly, and he knows it’s going to hurt like a bitch when it touches the sheets. 

“Eds?” he calls tentatively. 

“Mm?”

“Do you have anything for sunburns?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and finds some aloe in the medicine bag. He starts rubbing it lightly on Richie’s shoulders and upper back. “You’re such a lobster baby. Baby lobster. Are baby crabs related to lobster?”

Richie snorts. “You’re a little more drunk than I thought, huh?” Thankfully, others being drunk doesn’t trigger Richie at all to want to drink. His only triggers from before were mostly emotions like feeling sad, lost, and alone. He doesn’t feel that way any more. Even before he married Eddie, he didn’t feel that way with Em and the rest of the Losers. But now that Eddie’s here, his life feels… not complete. He was complete on his own. His life feels fuller, somehow. That’s the word.

Eddie nods. “Okay. Goodnight.”

“What? I don’t get a kiss?”

Eddie shrugs. 

Richie snuggles up next to him, real close, and starts pressing light kisses to the back of his neck. Eddie turns over and kisses him on the lips, light and chaste, but Richie isn’t having it. He pulls Eddie back and kisses him harder, and Eddie gasps, opening his mouth and tilting his head up. 

“Not too drunk t-”

“Shut up.”

* * *

“Richie, I don’t-”

“Hey ladies!” Richie says loudly, walking over to the volleyball court. 

“Hi,” a petite brunette says, holding the volleyball. “Wait a minute, aren’t you the guy from a few days ago?”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, he jumped in and splashed you.”

“Can we play volleyball with you guys?” Richie blurts. 

The blonde laughs. “Sure. So, where are you guys from?” she asks, serving the volleyball. 

“Middle of fucking nowhere Maine,” Richie replies. “You guys?”

“Wisconsin,” the brunette says. 

“Cheeseheads!” Richie yells, bumping the ball.

She laughs, passing it back to him. “Yeah, cheeseheads. What’s your name?”

“I’m Dick Toaster-Kaspbrak, and that’s Edward Toaster-Spaghedward.”

The blonde snorts, bumping the volleyball. “Well, I’m Callie, and that’s Elena.”

“And I’m Eddie and he’s just an idiot, don’t mind him.”

Richie shrugs. “Richie Tozier is my name, doing voices is my game,” he says in a terrible English accent. 

Elena laughs loudly, missing the ball and then running to go pick it up. “He’s hilarious!” she shouts to Callie, passing her the ball. 

Richie grins. 

“Oh no, don’t encourage him,” Eddie says. “Anyway, when did you guys get here?”

Richie dives for the ball, getting sand in his eyes and hair. “Oh, fuck, that- shit.”

Elena laughs and pulls him up. “We got here, uhm… five nights ago, babe?” she asks Callie, who nods. “Yeah. And we’re here for seven more. What about you guys?”

“Yeah, we’re here for… seven more too, I think?” Richie asks. 

Eddie nods. “I’m trying not to think about going home.” 

“But don’t you miss Emilia?” Richie asks, dropping the ball yet again.

“Do you guys wanna go get drinks?” Callie asks. “I’m sweating.”

“Who’s Emilia?” Elena asks, nodding and following her girlfriend’s lead. 

“Yeah, drinks sound cool,” Richie says. “She’s our daughter. She’s only four.”

“Aw!” Elena cooes. 

“Oh no, you’ve given her baby fever again.” Callie groans. “She just got over her last case.”

“I’m twenty-seven. I can want a kid, Cal,” Elena deadpans.

“Twenty-seven?” Richie asks. 

“Yeah, why, how old are you?”

“Twenty-three,” he says, feeling sheepish. 

“Oh, I thought you were older.”

“Yeah, he’s really mature, isn’t he?” Eddie asks sarcastically. 

Callie laughs. “Oh hell yeah.”

They order drinks and no one questions why Richie gets a Shirley Temple instead of a margarita. 

They spend the rest of the morning drinking and laughing with their new friends. They meet Callie and Elena again the next day, when they arrive at the off-resort dolphin-swimming place. 

“Shit, Eddie, they’re so adorable,” Richie murmurs, looking at the dolphins in awe. 

Eddie smiles. “You can’t cuss here dipshit, there’s children.”

Elena laughs. “You two are actually perfect for each other.”

Richie leans in to kiss Eddie’s cheek, but he licks him instead.

Callie doubles over with laughter.

“You are actually disgusting, Richard.”

“Oh, the full name,” Richie says, pretending to be scared. 

Eddie smacks him on the back of the neck. 

“Ow! I’m still sunburned!” 

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?”

“You two fight like kids,” Callie comments. 

“It’s been this way since we were thirteen, huh Eds?” Richie asks, resting his arm on Eddie’s head.

Eddie nods. “Sadly.”

They get to ride on the dolphin’s backs and it’s one of the most invigorating experiences of Eddie’s life. Dolphins are such social animals, and he’s really taken a liking to them, and them him. Richie’s dolphin is extremely playful, which fits his personality well. Eddie’s dolphin is a little wild, but also sweet. Callie almost falls off her dolphin, and Elena is an absolute natural. 

“So, Elena, did you like, grow up with dolphins or something? Are they your secret parents?” Richie asks on the way back to the resort. 

Elena laughs. “No, I guess I just like animals.”

“Animals like you.” Callie taps her lightly on the nose, giving her a quick kiss. Elena pulls away, yawning a little bit.

“You okay, Eds?”

Eddie nods from where he’s slumped against Richie. “Maybe a little tired. It’s midnight at home.” 

“He’s still on home time,” Richie stage-whispers. 

“Oh, don’t worry, so is she,” Callie points to Elena, now slumped up against her.

They part ways that night, saying they’ll meet on the beach the next morning. 

The next few days are a blur of strawberry daiquiris, pina coladas, beaches, blue and yellow fish, beach volleyball, and sunburns. Richie lies in bed that last night, and he can still feel the waves, rocking him to sleep. 

They exchanged Instagrams with Callie and Elena, saying they’d comment on each other’s posts once in a while, keep in touch. Richie’s really glad to have met them, and he enjoyed his honeymoon. He does miss Emilia like hell, though, and he knows Eddie does too. 

“Eds Spagheds, wake up.”

Eddie looks at Richie and then rolls over. “It’s five in the morning.”

“Yes, and our flight is at seven. You told me to wake you up early.”

Eddie doesn’t respond. 

Richie sighs and stands up, getting dressed in a pair of jean shorts and a red hawaiian shirt. He packs up all their toiletries and then brings their bags to the door, checking the time again. 5:20. 

“Eds, you can sleep on the plane, we have to go. You’re gonna be pissed if we’re late.”

Eddie mumbles something into his pillow and then sits up, rubbing his eyes. “You’re right, sorry.”

“Hold up, hold up, did you just say I’m _right_? I-”

“Richie, not now, okay?”

Richie nods.

Eddie pulls on a shirt and a pair of shorts, and then triple-checks their room to make sure they haven’t left anything behind. 

The flight is relatively easy. Eddie sleeps for the first six hours or so, on and off, and Richie avoids looking out the window and listens to music. He connects to the WiFi the airplane offers, deciding to splurge a little so he can follow Callie and Elena on Instagram and post the pictures he took in Hawaii. He opens iMessage for the first time in six days to find tons of messages from Bev, mostly pictures of Emilia, and a few from Stan and Bill asking about houses.

Because that was a thing Richie had started thinking about.

He watches a few movies on the airline’s app. Eddie wakes up and orders one last alcoholic beverage as a sort of last hurrah before they return to real life as adults who are married. With a child. And are searching for a home.

They arrive home close to eight o’clock, and they drive straight to Ben and Bev’s house. 

“Daddy!” Emilia screams, running out of the front door and nearly tackling him. Richie catches her and hugs her close. 

“Hi, cookie, what’s up?”

“Missed you,” she says, pouting a little. “Dada! Hi!” She moves on to hug Eddie, who hugs her just as tight. “Daddy, you look red?” she questions, poking at his cheek. 

Eddie laughs. “He didn’t wear enough sunscreen where we went, Emmy.”

“Oh.”

“Rich, you got burnt to a fucking crisp didn’t you?”

“Oh yeah.”

Bev and Ben invite them in for some non-alcoholic beverages, and they catch each other up on what’s been going on this past week and a half. Richie and Eddie tell them everything from meeting Callie and Elena to swimming with dolphins, and Emilia is extremely engaged when she hears that fish ate right out of her daddy’s hand. 

“Woah,” she breathes. “Could you feel their little fish teeth?”

Richie laughs. “Mostly their fins, but more or less.”

Bev looks worn, but happy. All four of them are positively glowing, actually. 

“You still want kids?” Richie asks, playing with a strand of Emilia’s hair from where she’s seated on his lap. 

Bev nods. “Hell yes. Now more than ever, actually. We just need to get _married_.” She looks at Ben pointedly, and he blushes. 

“I’m working on it, okay? I just want everything to be perfect. Stuff takes time, not everybody can plan a stellar wedding in a month and a half.”

Bev smiles. “I know.”

Emilia yawns, turning away from them and using Richie’s arm as a pillow. 

“She’s really happy you’re home,” Ben says fondly. 

Eddie smiles. “I bet.”

“So, did Stan and Bill text you about the house they found?” Bev asks, taking a sip of her water.

Richie nods.

“What house?” Eddie asks, excited.

“Well, Stan and Bill did a little hunting while you were gone, and they found a house extremely close to theirs that’s for sale. It’s got four bedrooms, a really nice basement, one of the rooms even had a secret attic-”

“Oh, Em’s gonna love that,” Eddie says. “Should we check it out?”

“I think that would be awesome.”

They check out the house the next day, after Stan and Bill invite them over. Richie and Eddie are slowly getting over their jet-lag with coffee and energy drinks, but Emilia’s everlasting supply of energy is making it a little difficult. They don’t mind. They wouldn’t trade it for the world.

The house is everything they could’ve dreamed of and more. The landscape is absolutely beautiful, and Richie is already redesigning each of the rooms in his head, painting them the colors they need to be painted and putting furniture in the right places. 

“Richie, I think this is going to be our house.”

“Home,” Richie corrects. “It’s our home.”

Emilia comes running in from the other room. She crashes into Eddie, hugging his knees. “I like it here.”

They talk to the real estate agent and work out a financial plan, and soon enough, Stan and Bill are helping them move in. 

Emilia has a little trouble the first few nights, requesting to sleep in their room, but once Richie takes her to the store to buy paints, fairy lights, and a bean bag chair, she loves her new room. 

“Richie, why did you just spend a hundred and fifty dollars at the crafts store?” Eddie asks. 

“Interior decorating?” Richie replies uncertainly. Emilia giggles and runs into the living room.

“Look, Dada! Look what we made!” She holds up an abstract painting, filled with blue, pink, and white streaks. 

“That’s really good,” Eddie remarks. “Okay, fine, I approve of your use of one hundred and fifty dollars at the craft store.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s get this on tape,” Richie starts in his announcer voice. “Eddie Spaghetti approves of something Dick Toaster does.”

“I thought we were trying not to cuss in front of her,” Eddie deadpans.

“We are! Right, Emmy?”

She nods. “I know a list of words I can’t say. Ass, and… sh-”

Richie laughs loudly. “Berry, you’re not supposed to say them, okay?”

“Yes. Okay. I’m not saying them.” She skips off to her room then, presumably to color and paint some more. 

Richie sighs and sits down on the couch next to Eddie, resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder. 

“What do you want?”

“Can’t a man just love his husband?”

“I suppose.”

It’s quiet for a minute.

“Did you ever think we’d be here, Eds?”

“All the time,” he replies honestly, lost in the world his high-school self once lived in. “And as much as I imagined this, I saw it go down in flames the way it did.”

“I would _never-_ ”

“I know. We’re okay now. Both of us. We both had some issues. But hey, wringer and back am I right?”

“And back,” Richie repeats, holding tight to Eddie’s hand. “I love you, did I mention that?”

“Cheesy,” Eddie remarks.

“Dork.”

“Loser.”

“Lover!”

“Okay, you got me there,” Eddie says, hand over his heart.

_Can I go where you go?_

_Can we always be this close forever and ever?_

_And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever)_

_You're my, my, my, my_

_Lover_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, it's me again!  
> i hope you enjoyed haha  
> stick around for the epilogue, and leave a comment down below if you liked  
> tell me about your day, tell me your favorite part, leave constructive criticism, i don't care, i just like interacting with you guys :)  
> callie and elena deserve their own story tbh, i'm gonna have richie and eddie try to keep in touch with them in the next chapter  
> is that a spoiler?  
> it's a minor detail, idrk  
> uhm...  
> bye guys, see you in the next one!  
> <3


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ten years later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah  
> i am about to finish my first multi-chapter fic with plot (seasons of reddie was a bunch of one-shots)  
> this is crazy  
> thank you guys so, so, so much for sticking along for the ride, for all of your kudos, comments, subscriptions, etc. they truly mean the world to me and please do not be shy, continue to comment on this last chapter, i'd love to say hi and talk to you about... pretty much anything, it, your day, quotes from the chapter, whatever  
> i still cannot believe i am about to finish this  
> this took a minute to write, so i apologize if it's a bit choppy, but in the end, i am happy with it  
> i know chapter 8 was an amazing ending, with the lyrics and quotes at the end, and this one (the ending) is probably a little less than sub-par, but this is for those who wanted to see the second gen losers, aka me and @Millennialpink22 and i mean, hopefully you guys want to see them too 
> 
> so...  
> here is a little bit about the kids, skip this if you just want to know from the actual fic, but the fic doesn't contain descriptions and ages as that would be info dump and probably a little awkward
> 
> emilia - 14, looks just like richie, with big, dark, loose curls, and brown eyes  
> ryder - 9, looks like eddie, with brown wavy hair, but blue eyes from bev and lots of freckles  
> dylan - 9, looks like mike, with coffee colored skin and tighter curls, brown eyes  
> shiloh - 8, looks like ben, but has bev's blue eyes and has a little bit of freckles  
> emerson - 7, still looks like ben, darker, straight hair, brown eyes, not as many freckles  
> noelle - 7, looks like julie and mike, with coffee colored skin, again, tighter curls and brown eyes  
> skylar - 6, looks like stan except a girl and strawberry blonde, literally the best way to describe her  
> beatrix - 4, again, looks like ben (poor bev), but has bev's eyes and freckles, and also significantly lighter hair than her siblings
> 
> okay, so that's that, and... uhm... yeah  
> i really really hope you guys enjoy this chapter  
> if you do, comment and leave kudos and uhm  
> don't be afraid to message me on tumblr @06strawberrylemonade28  
> wow  
> again  
> im kinda in shock about finishing this

The phone rings, startling Eddie awake. He picks it up, tapping Richie on the shoulder.

“Ben?” 

“It’s time,” Ben confirms. 

Eddie smiles. 

“Is the baby coming?” Richie asks, putting on his glasses. 

Eddie nods, standing up and pulling on jeans and a sweatshirt. “I’ll go get Emilia, you start the car and grab the bag.”

“Okay,” Richie says, giving Eddie a quick kiss on the cheek. 

Eddie walks into Emilia’s room, and she sits up as the door creaks, rubbing her eyes. 

“Hi, sweetie. We’re going to the hospital, your new baby sibling is going to arrive today.”

“Oh! Okay,” Em says, holding a stuffed pink bear close to her chest. “I’m ready.” She grins, and Eddie smiles back at her, picking her up and bringing her out to the car. 

“How long?” Eddie asks. 

Richie yawns, pulling up his text messages with Bev and Ben. 

“An hour or so,” he replies, starting the car. “Good morning, Emmy.”

“Daddy, it’s not morning!” she exclaims, laughing.

“Yes, it is,” he tells her. “It’s 3 a.m., which means morning.”

Richie lets Eddie explain time to her as he focuses on the road. 

They arrive at the hospital, immediately making a beeline to Bev’s room. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, turning to Ben. “How is she?”

“Pushing,” Bev replies, out of breath. “He’s a stubborn fuck,” Bev continues. 

“She,” Richie corrects. 

Eddie turns to him. “For the last time, Richie, he’s a boy.”

“No, I’m sure _she_ is a girl-”

“Can you not argue right now?” Bev asks tiredly, gasping as the baby moves around inside her. 

“But he’s a boy.”

“Em, would you like a brother or a sister?” Richie asks. 

She shrugs. “As long as they play with me, I don’t care.”

“She’s got the right idea,” Ben says, picking her up. She laughs, hugging him. “Are you hungry, Em?”

She nods. 

“Is it okay if I take her to a vending machine?” Ben asks Bev. “I completely understand if you need me here right now-”

“I’m fine,” Bev says, smiling tightly. “It won’t get super bad for a few more minutes, and you’ll be back by then.”

Ben squeezes Bev’s hand and then leaves the room, off to go find a vending machine. 

“Yeah. Em has certainly missed Ben since you guys were in Jamaica for three weeks!” Richie exclaims. 

“It was fun, though,” Bev starts.

“Spare me the details.” Eddie grimaces.

Bev laughs, but quickly winces. 

“Do you need Ben?” Richie asks.

Bev nods, and Eddie is already gone to go get him.

They return two minutes later, Ben rushing to Bev’s side and Emilia reaching up for Richie to hold her. She’s got a bag of peanut M&Ms in one hand and her pink bear in the other.

Eddie looks at the M&Ms and then looks at Ben, who shrugs.

“They didn’t have that many options.”

Bev groans as a doctor comes over to make sure everything’s running smoothly. 

“I’m going to go sit with Em over there,” Eddie says, visibly stressed. He counts his breaths: in for four, hold for seven, out for eight. 

“Aw, shit!” Bev exclaims. Ben holds her hand tighter, trying to comfort her. 

“Are you okay?”

“No, Richie, I’m giving birth!”

Richie winces. “Yeah, that must fucking suck.”

Bev nods, squeezing Ben’s hand so hard Richie thinks it’s going to break. 

A few nurses come in and guide Bev through the rest of labor. And two hours later, a tiny baby boy enters the world. 

“Shit, Rich,” Eddie says, in awe. “He’s beautiful.”

“That’s all you, babe.”

“I helped,” Bev says, throwing her head back in exhaustion.

“And I’m here for moral support.” Ben smiles. 

“I understand Beverly is your surrogate,” a kind nurse says, turning to Richie and Eddie. 

Richie nods, still captivated by his son. 

Eddie plays with Emmy’s hair a bit to wake her up, pointing at the baby in the nurse’s arms. 

“Okay, so skin to skin contact is going to be really important here, and it’d be good for you two to take off your shirts and take turns holding him.”

“That sounds vaguely sexual,” Richie comments. “At least take me out to dinner first.” He shrugs his shirt off.

Eddie smacks his arm. “I’m sorry. He’s an idiot.”

The nurse looks at Emilia, mildly alarmed, before handing the baby to Richie.

“What’s his name?” Bev asks. 

“Ryder,” Eddie says. “And I told you he was a boy. We all did.”

“Well pardon me,” Richie murmurs, focused on Ryder, who has quieted down and is now softly cooing at his dad. 

“He’s beautiful, have I mentioned that?” Eddie puts a finger in Ryder’s hand, and his fingers wrap around Eddie’s. 

“You have,” Beverly says, equally as stunned by the fact that she _created_ a baby. 

Eddie shows Emilia how to activate Ryder’s reflexes, and his toes lightly curl around her pinky finger. She squeals, delighted with this, and tries it on his other foot. 

Bev and Ben take turns holding Ryder before giving him back to Richie so Emilia can hold him. Eddie sets her up in a chair with a pillow for where Ryder’s head will rest. She holds him for a minute or so before he starts fussing and Richie has to take him back. He quiets down a bit then, but his mouth is still opening and closing frantically. It’s obvious he’s hungry, so Eddie grabs the prepared bottle from his bag and gives it to Richie. 

Richie guides it to Ryder’s mouth, and the baby quickly settles down, now making contented sucking noises. 

“Are you okay, Bev?” Richie turns to her, and she looks utterly drained, but happy. 

She nods. 

“Sorry we put you through that,” Richie continues. “I think we’re done with babies now.”

“We’re definitely done,” Eddie says, taking Ryder to burp him and then rock him to sleep. 

“Jeez, Eds, we haven’t even had the kid home for a night and you’re _already_ trashing him-” 

“I’m not _trashing_ him, Richie-”

“Hey, remember when Emmy was four, and you kept saying ‘that was good, for a four-year-old?’ This is just like that!”

Ryder shifts in Eddie’s arms, and Eddie shoots a glare at Richie. 

“If you wake him up I _will_ choke you.”

“Kinky.” 

“Richard, I swear-”

A nurse walks in, looking vaguely concerned, but then turning to Bev. 

“Hi, Beverly Marsh, right?”

Bev nods, attempting to sit up, and Ben carefully puts his hand over hers. 

“Bev, you don’t have to sit up, or talk, or anything-”

“I’m alright, Ben.” She gives a genuine smile. “Yes?” 

“We’re going to keep you and Ryder for the rest of the day to continue checking vitals, but you should be free to go when it gets dark, or a few hours after. And I assume you guys are staying as long as Ryder and Beverly, because this is a surrogacy and you’re his parents, even though we don’t have to check your vitals every few hours.”

Richie smiles and nods. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

The nurse nods and exits. 

Eddie yawns, handing Ryder to Richie. He wraps his arms around himself. 

“It’s cold… is it cold for you guys? Can I put my shirt back on?”

“Never, baby,” Richie replies. 

“Okay, I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Well, you guys are still going to take turns holding him, right?” Ben asks logically. “Maybe just take it off when you’re about to hold him?”

“Yeah, that means sense.”

“Dada, ‘m hungry,” Emilia says, rubbing her eyes and tugging on Eddie’s hand. 

“Yeah, okay, one minute, Emmy. Rich, I’m going to take her to get some real food, okay?” He looks at Ben pointedly.

“It was all they had, I’m telling you!” Ben defends.

Richie leans back a little in his chair, cradling Ryder to his chest. He yawns. “Three in the morning. You couldn’t have waited a couple more hours?”

Bev snorts. “Sorry my delivery time was inconvenient for you.”

“It’s okay. We won’t put you through this again. Can’t say the same for Stan and Bill, though.”

Bev sighs. “No, it’s fine. It’s worth it. Just looking at him makes it all worth it.”

“Yeah.” Richie takes another moment to admire his son. He’s got a few small tufts of brown hair, and the softest skin ever. His eyes are a rich, beautiful baby-blue that he got from Bev, and the rest of him is all Eddie. Richie carefully feels Ryder’s hair. “Damn. This shit is soft.”

“Be careful about his soft spot, too,” Bev says. 

“I know, I know.”

“Back,” Emilia says, walking through the door and sitting on the chair next to Richie’s. She touches Ryder’s tiny feet again, fascinated by his miniscule fingernails. 

“And look who we found,” Eddie says, pointing behind him.

“Hi,” Stan says, waving a bit. Behind him are Bill, Mike, and Julie. 

“Hey guys!” Richie says. 

Eddie shushes him. “The baby is _asleep_.”

Stan snorts. “He’ll get used to the loudness. Can I hold him?”

Richie nods and hands his son to Stan. The rest of the Losers take turns holding him, and he eventually ends up in Eddie’s arms. 

“So how are you guys? What time did you get here?” Mike asks. 

“Well, we got a call at three in the morning, got here at three thirty, and she was in labor for five hours? Right Bev?” Richie looks at her. 

Bev nods weakly, barely awake. 

“We should probably let her rest,” Richie continues, running a hand through his hair. He smiles. “We said we wouldn’t put her through this again, but made no promises for you two.”

Stan blushes. 

“W-we’re still thinking about k-kids,” Bill says. 

“Whatever you say, Billy-boy.”

“Where’s Emilia?” Julie asks. 

“Shit, really?” Richie asks, looking around. “She was right-”

“Relax,” Ben says, putting a hand on Richie’s shoulder and pointing to a few chairs pushed together a ways back. Emilia is laying on one, fast asleep and hugging her pink bear. 

“Jeez, Juliard, you scared me.”

“Like that’s hard to do,” Eddie says dryly.

“Hey! It is!”

Stan snorts. “Whatever you say Richard.”

They spend a few more minutes talking, and then Stan and Julie have to go work. Mike and Bill stay a little longer and then decide to head out as well. 

Ryder eats then, and the nurses take his and Bev’s vitals. 

This happens every few hours, until seven, when both Ryder and Bev are discharged from the hospital.

“Bev, I love you so much, and thank you so much,” Richie says, picking up Emilia. “Seriously.”

“Of course,” Bev replies. “You guys are my best friends.”

Eddie smiles at her, buckling Ryder into his carseat. “You’re the best.”

“Best Aunty Ever!” Emilia exclaims, wriggling out of Richie’s arms to give Bev a huge hug.

“Thanks, honey. I love you.”

“Love you too!”

Richie makes sure the kids are secure before hopping into the passenger’s seat. 

“This is crazy,” he breathes. 

“What?”

“I’m so happy.”

Eddie grins, starting the drive home.

Ryder’s first week, while significantly easier than Emilia’s, for obvious reasons, is rough.

It’s two in the morning, and he’s fussing again after having only drank a fourth of his bottle a few hours prior.

“It’s your turn,” Richie murmurs.

“What? No, it’s your turn,” Eddie says. 

“Eds, It’s yours. I just-”

“Richie, I _know_ when you’re lying.”

Richie sighs, and stands to go get Ryder. He bounces him while re-warming the bottle from earlier. Ryder finishes most of it, falling back asleep before he can. Richie yawns, laying him back down and then stretching out to cuddle Eddie. 

“It wasn’t actually your turn,” Eddie mumbles. “I just know you have a guilt complex.”

“I knew I should’ve married your mother.”

“Dada?” 

Eddie wakes up to Emilia tugging on the blankets. He glances at the clock. 4:00 a.m. They just can’t catch a break, can they?

“What’s up, baby?” 

“I- I don’t feel good,” she says, clutching her stomach. 

“Oh- okay, shit, uh-” he doesn’t get another word out before she gags and falls to her knees. “Okay, shit, Emilia, come here…” Eddie stands and leads her to the bathroom, where she throws up into the toilet. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” he murmurs, rubbing her back. 

She whimpers, puking again. “S-sorry,” she mumbles, shivering and pulling back. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Eddie says firmly, making sure she knows this isn’t her fault. 

But oh _fuck_. What next?

Whenever he was sick his mom smothered him, and Richie’s mom ignored him, _fuck-_

Emilia whines again, holding her arms out for a hug. Eddie holds her, brushing out her curls with his fingers. He flushes the toilet, and then asks her if she’s feeling any better. 

“Head hurts,” she tells him, and she sounds a little congested. 

“Okay. It’s going to be okay.”

Medicine.

He needs-

_“You know it’s all bullshit, right?”_

_“What is?”_

_“Your medication. They’re placebos.”_

_“What does placebo mean?”_

_“Placebo means bullshit.”_

Sugar pills. 

No, because Emilia is clearly sick. She just threw up.

_You threw up all the time, she made you, and-_

_Anxiety_ -

Eddie closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He feels Emilia’s forehead, which is a little warm. 

He looks through the cabinet, trying to find a thermometer. 

100 degrees Farenheight. 

That’s not too bad. So he needs Tylenol, a cool rag, and some cartoons for her to watch. 

“Does your stomach feel any better?” 

She nods weakly against his chest. 

“Okay, good. I’m going to get you some medicine-”

_Placebo means bullshit._

“And then you can watch TV, okay? I’m sorry you feel crummy, Em.”

“‘s okay.”

He picks her up, carrying her to the couch and turning on Nickelodeon. He finds a bottle of Tylenol, measuring out the correct dosage. He crushes it and puts it in some applesauce. 

“Here, this applesauce will help. It has medicine in it.”

“Okay.” She takes a bite, and luckily doesn’t seem to taste the pill. 

Eddie runs a washrag under cool water and then fixes it on her forehead. 

“Can I have my green blanket?” 

“Of course. I’ll be right back.”

Eddie walks into her room to get the green, silk-lined blanket, tucking her in with it. 

He glances a the clock. It’s now five in the morning, and Ryder’s due to eat soon, so he fixes a bottle and turns the lights on in Ryder’s room, effectively waking the baby. 

“Hi, buddy. Good morning,” Eddie says, picking up Ryder and bringing him into the living room to eat. 

“Hi, Ryder,” Em says, sitting up a little. She coughs into her hand, and Eddie winces a bit. 

“Cough into your elbow, sweetie, okay?”

“Okay.”

Ryder finishes the bottle, and Eddie burps him, lying back on the couch. He keeps one hand on Ryder’s back, and the other in Emilia’s hair. 

_Placebo means bullshit._

_You’re not sick._

_She’s not sick._

_You’re smothering her, Eddie._

_Go away._

_They’re just sugar pills_ -

“Eds? Eddie, are you okay?”

“Mm? Yes, I’m fine.”

“Are they okay?”

Eddie shakes his head to clear it. 

“Ryder’s fine. Em, she’s… uhm- sick.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I can handle it, Richie,” Eddie says, a little too sharply. 

“Oh-kay. I can take Ryder if you want.”

“I’m fine.”

“Well, I think he needs to be changed.”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay, here.”

_Bullshit._

“Rich?”

“Hm?” Richie asks, turning around.

“I’m not… I’m not like my mom… right?”

 _You’re_ smothering _her._

“Oh, Eddie. Hell no. Why would you ask that?”

“I don’t know. Emmy’s sick, and I don’t want to smother her, and-”

_Placebo means bullshit._

“It’s… weird working with real medicine. THe last time I was even genuinely sick my mom gave me sugar pills to keep me that way. The Tylenol _is_ real right? I-”

“Eds, calm down. You are not like her in the slightest. The Tylenol is real, and-”

“But how do you know I’m not like her? I mean, she single-handedly raised me, there’s gotta be-”

“Do you want Emilia to be sick? Would you feed her sugar pills to keep her that way?”

“No. No, of course not-”

“Then we have our answer. You’re not like her, Eds.”

Eddie takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Thanks, Richie. I needed to hear that for some reason.”

“Well, you are like your mom in one way.”

Eddie sits up straight. “Wha-”

“You’re both hot as hell.”

Eddie throws a pillow at Richie’s legs, so he doesn’t hit Ryder. “I am going to smack you in the face when you put down our son.”

“I’m not putting him down!”

“Why did I marry you again?”

“No clue, Spaghetti, but I’m sure glad you did.”

* * *

_Nine Years Later_

“I want to watch Nickelodeon!”

“And I want to watch Disney Channel!”

“No! Shiloh, get off!”

“Mom, Emerson hit me!”

Bev sighs, pulling her hair up into a ponytail. 

“Mama! Mama!” Beatrix, her youngest daughter, yells from the doorway. “Lookit what Daddy and me found!” She holds up a small seashell. “Pretty.”

“Yeah, B, that’s really pretty.” Bev picks her up and sets her on the counter, fixing the small, pink bows in her light brown hair. 

“Okay, how about nobody watches TV and you two go outside and play with Ryder and Dylan?” Emilia suggests, walking into the family room and taking the remote from Shiloh. 

It’s been around ten years since Richie and Eddie got married, and a lot has happened since then. Emilia turned fourteen the past May. She’s still got quite the personality, a head full of barely manageable curls, and is ready to help anyone in need. She’s taken a liking to music and being extremely protective of her younger brother, Ryder, along with the rest of her cousins, the youngest of which is only four. 

The rest of the Losers ended up getting married, with Ben and Bev surprisingly being last. As more and more children were brought into their big found family, they started and continued traditions, such as going to the quarry on birthdays and holding Christmas and Christmas Eve at Ben and Bev’s house. They eventually decided to rent a huge lake house, every year in late August, to stay for ten nights and just spend time with each other because now that everyone has kids and jobs, it’s not as easy to have movie night every Friday.

They still see each other a lot more than the average mid-30s friend group with kids, but it’s not like it was when Emilia was four years old. 

Also, everyone pretty much has their shit together now.

Richie and Eddie don’t have alcohol in their home, and Eddie’s anxiety attacks are extremely rare.

Bev’s fashion career took off, but she is able to give the designs to seamstresses who work for her so she can work from home and take care of her three children. 

Ben is slowly renovating Derry with his brilliant mind for architecture, and still has time to play football with the boys and dolls with his daughter. 

Julie is an amazing artist, and sells art from inside her and Mike’s home, while Mike works at the Derry Hospital.

Finally, Stan is an accountant at the local bank and Bill has published a couple books with… less than satisfactory endings, but everyone’s sure he’ll get there. 

Richie and Eddie of course have Emilia and Ryder. Ben and Bev take the lead with _three_ children, Bev having been pregnant a total of five times, with two surrogacies for Richie and Eddie and Stan and Bill. She jokes about being mad that none of her babies really look like her. After all that work, all three of them look just like Ben. But she couldn’t be happier. Her two boys, Shiloh and Emerson, are quite the handful, fighting every five minutes and refusing to go to bed for the life of them. On the contrary, Beatrix, her daughter, is an angel and rarely even cries. 

Mike and Julie have two children. Dylan, who is the same age as Ryder, and Noelle who is the same age (and best friends with) Emerson. She and Emerson love looking for cool rocks on the beach, and Dylan and Ryder play a mean game of Marco Polo. 

Stan and Bill have one baby, a daughter, who looks just like Stan but with freckles and slightly redder hair. 

“Are you ready to go shopping, Sky?” Em asks the six year old, after the boys have gone outside.

Skylar nods. She’s a fairly quiet kid, like Stan, but speaks her mind when it’s important.

“Where are we going Mommy?” Noelle asks Julie, who is pulling a shirt over her swimsuit top. 

“We’re going to get some clothes, maybe some toys, food, whatever you want,” Julie replies. “Everyone have their shoes on?”

“Yep!” Emilia replies, finishing tying Skylar’s shoes and giving a thumbs up. “I can’t wait to go back to that fudge shop. I literally haven’t had good fudge in a year. We tried to make some a few months ago… but it didn’t really turn out too well…”

Bev laughs. “Yeah. Eddie can cook, Richie can bake, and fudge… well, that falls somewhere in between and it’s really difficult.”

“Definitely.”

Emilia helps Skylar and Beatrix into the car while Bev gets into the driver’s seat and Julie helps Noelle. 

“Mama! Look!” Noelle exclaims, pointing to a shop with a bunch of stuffed animals advertised in the front. “Can we go there?”

“Hang on, baby, we have to park first, and we have to see what everyone else wants to do,” Julie tells her. 

“Oh… okay!” 

“Woah, this place is much more touristy than I remember,” Emilia starts. “We’ve been to this part of town before?”

“Yeah,” Bev replies. “They just made some renovations over the past year.”

“Mama, what’s that?” Beatrix asks, pointing to a store with some really pretty clothes in the front. 

“Sequins,” Bev tells her. “Do you like them?”

“I never have sequins before.”

“Well, you did on that one dress Uncle Richie bought you, remember? I used to think they were tacky, but that shirt is actually really cute.”

“Only you would think sequins are tacky on a children’s dress,” Julie says, laughing.

“Hey! I studied fashion for two years!” 

“Yeah!” Beatrix defends, copying her mom’s tone of voice.

“Sky, do you want to look at clothes?” 

Skylar shrugs, but she’s smiling, and Noelle has already spotted a stuffed animal corner in the back of the store. Beatrix picks up the sequined shirt and holds it up to her chest.

“Pretty?” she asks Emilia.

“Very,” Em tells her. “Not tacky at all. Y’know, I had a few sequined shirts when I was little-”

“Again, your father bought those because he likes to annoy me and has no taste in fashion. I am not having this argument today.”

“Uncle Richie looks like a pineapple ad.”

Emilia bursts out laughing. “Cuz of all the pineapples on his shirts?”

Skylar nods. 

“And, adding that to the ‘Skylar Roasting People Quotebook,’” Bev says, pulling out her phone. “Right next to the one where she said Richie looked like Gumby, even though she doesn’t know who Gumby is and only heard that from Stan.” 

Emilia laughs. “Yeah, that was a good one. Skylar, do any of these outfits look interesting to you? Look, this one has bluebirds on it!” She holds up a light blue romper with bluebirds flying across it. 

Skylar smiles, feeling the material. 

“I like it,” she says. 

Em hands it to Beverly and then walks over to Noelle. 

“Did you see anything you like?”

Noelle shakes her head, clutching a stuffed tiger to her chest and looking longingly at the other stuffed animals. She never took as much of a liking to fashion as Beatrix and Emilia did, preferring to build with Emerson and play with her stuffed animals. Emilia shrugs and heads off to the teen section, Skylar still holding her hand.

“This is cute, what do you think?” Bev asks, walking around the racks of dresses and holding up a white dress with cherries all over it.

“Oh my gosh. I love it. Can I try it on?” Em asks. 

“Of course! Shit, there’s no changing rooms. Go in the back, I’ll shield you.”

Emilia smiles and quickly tries on the dress. It hugs her chest loosely, flaring out at the waist with a tie around her neck and an open back. 

“Em,you look gorgeous,” Bev states, tapping Julie’s shoulder to get her attention. She’s trying to get Noelle away from the toys. 

“Woah,” Julie says. 

Em smiles. “Thank you so much. How much is it?” She twists, trying to find the price tag.

“Don’t worry about it.” Bev waves her hand nonchalantly. 

“Do you think Dads will let me wear it?”

“What do you mean?” Bev asks. 

Julie is trying to get the kids up to the checkout. 

“I mean… the open back could be distracting for the boys at school…”

“Fuck ‘em.”

“What?”

“It’s not your fault the boys can’t keep it in their pants. Wear whatever you want. Just as long as your entire ass and/or tits aren’t hanging out.”

Emilia laughs. “Yeah. Thanks.”

They walk around the city a while longer, popping in and out of stores and eventually arriving at the famous fudge shop.

“I am so excited,” Em says.

“We’ve heard,” Skylar says sarcastically.

“Okay, I did not have that much of a mouth at her age!”

Julie makes a so-so motion. “You were loud, not sarcastic.”

“Like father like daughter,” Bev says. 

“Yeah, okay. I am not going to comment,” Emilia says, crossing her arms. 

They buy a shit ton of fudge, way more than is necessary, but they all know Richie is going to eat half of it on his own, Shiloh and Emerson fighting for the other half while everyone else is left with whatever they can scavenge. That’s why Bev buys herself, Em, and Julie each another block to hide in their rooms. 

“Are you guys ready to head back home?” Julie asks, bags in one hand and carrying Noelle with the other. Bev is holding Beatrix, and Em is carrying Skylar. 

“Yes,” Emilia says. 

They turn back to the car, pulling in at the beach house within the next twenty minutes. 

“Sky, you wanna get your suit on?” Emilia asks. “We can hop in the lake before dinner.”

“What’s for dinner?” Noelle asks. 

“Daddy’s making steak,” Julie tells her. 

“Do we have time to go for a swim, Aunt Julie?” Em asks her. 

“Yeah, sure. Bev?”

“Whatever you want,” Bev tells them. 

Emilia takes the girls to go get changed. 

“Hey, ladies,” Richie says, when Bev and Julie walk into the kitchen. “How was shopping?”

“Good,” Bev says, throwing Em’s dress at him. 

“For me?”

“No, dipshit, for your daughter.” 

Richie holds it up. “Yeah, that’s a pretty dress. What else did you guys get?”

“You’re waiting for food, aren’t you?”

Richie nods. 

Bev hands him a block of fudge. “Please don’t eat it all in one sitting and _please_ save room for dinner.”

“I’m not five, Beaverly.”

“Well, you act it, Dickard. Where are the boys?”

“Shiloh and Emerson are playing football with Ben, and I think Bill and Eddie are still throwing around Dyl and Ryder… I came in for a water, ‘cuz Stan and Mike are cooking.”

“Okay,” Bev says, walking outside. 

“It’s my turn!” 

“No, it’s not, you just caught the ball-oof!” Emerson is cut off as Shiloh tackles him in a haste for the football. 

“Hey, babe,” Bev says, walking over to Ben. 

He sighs, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “They haven’t stooped fighting since they woke up.”

“At least they’ll sleep tonight,” she comments. “Shiloh, stop kicking your brother.”

“Why can’t you two play nicely, like Dylan and Noelle?”

“Noelle’s back?” Emerson asks, picking up his head from where Shiloh smashed it in the sand. 

Bev nods, and Emerson sprints off to go find her. 

They were building a sandcastle yesterday, and Emerson found the seashells to complete it today. 

“Shiloh, why don’t you go play with Dylan and Ryder.”

“Okay, Mom.” He stands, bringing the football with him. “Dyl, go long!” 

Dylan looks up. “What?”

Eddie catches the football right before it hits Dylan in the face. He tosses it to Ryder, who throws it to Emilia up on the beach. 

“Monkey in the middle?” he asks. 

“Yeah!” she yells, running into the water in her black one-piece. Skylar follows her, wearing a blue swimsuit with ruffles. “Who’s playing?”

It ends up just being the five of them, since Noelle and Emerson are doing their thing and Beatrix is still a little young to stay afloat on her own.

“I’ll be in the middle!” Shiloh volunteers. 

“We’re going to head back up to the beach, alright Em?” Eddie asks as he walks out of the water. 

“Yeah, see you at dinner.” She throws the football back to Ryder, who dives to catch it. 

He comes up with it in his hands, and then Shiloh tackles him down, trying to wrestle it out of his hands. 

“Dylan!” Ryder yells, throwing it to the other boy. 

“Em, look out!” Dylan exclaims. 

She almost ran right into Shiloh. 

“Shit! Skylar, here!” 

SKylar grabs the football, throws it to Dylan, who throws it back to Emilia. Shiloh jumps on her back, effectively knocking her down. 

“Sky, help!” 

Skylar and Ryder both swim over to her, attempting to grab the football. Shiloh is already there though, and he tosses the football back to Dylan. 

“Em’s in the middle!”

She sighs, standing up and rubbing her shoulders. “Shiloh, did you _scratch_ me?”

“Maybe!”

“Oh my gosh.” 

Dylan laughs and throws the football to Ryder. Em tackles him and he puts up a good fight, but in the end, she’s way taller and is able to steal the ball. She quickly passes to Skylar. 

“Guys! Dinner!” Noelle calls from the beach. 

“One second!” Emilia yells, squeezing out her hair and taking the football from Skylar. “To be continued?”

“Definitely,” Ryder says, walking in front of her. He shakes his head, trying to get water out of his ears. 

“Em, look at the rocks me and Noelle found!” Emerson exclaims, holding up a bright red rock. “We were going to use it in our sand castle, but we didn't.” He shrugs. “Isn’t it pretty?”

“Very pretty,” Emilia tells him. “Here, we gotta get dried off for dinner, but we’ll be right down.” 

She sees the boys to their room and then helps Skylar get dried off and changed. She then heads to her room to change into her new dress. She carefully brushes out her curls, applying a little chapstick before heading back downstairs. 

“How are you, Em?” Eddie asks her. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

“You saw me this morning,” she says, playing with her food a little.

“I guess. How was your day? Where did you guys go?” 

“We went into town and window shopped mostly,” Julie informs him. “We got fudge-”

“Really?” Mike asks, excited.

“Yes, and it’s for _after_ dinner,” Bev says, with a pointed look at the boys. 

“We know!” Dylan protests.

Ryder looks down, picking at his food.

“Is something wrong, bud?” Richie asks. 

“What? Oh, no, I’m fine.”

“He just wants fudge before dinner,” Emilia says, laughing. 

“Me too,” Skylar agrees.

“Don’t we a-all,” Bill says. 

“Then why don’t we…?” 

“No,” Stan says firmly. “Mike and I worked hard on this meal. Please enjoy it without shoving chocolate down your throats halfway through. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Skylar agrees.

“Staniel, I’m convinced she’s your clone, but strawberry blonde,” Richie says. 

Bill laughs. “M-maybe.”

They finish dinner and desert relatively quickly (desert especially), everyone is starving from either walking five miles all day or playing in the sun for sixteen hours. 

“Mama, can we watch a movie?” Beatrix asks, hugging Bev’s knees.

“Belle!” Skylar adds. “Please.”

“I wanna watch _Cars_!” Dylan argues.

“Okay, okay, there’s multiple TVs,” Ben cuts in.

Emilia takes the girls into the living room to watch _Beauty and the Beast_ , and Eddie takes the boys into the family room to watch _Cars_.

After the movies are over, Mike and Ben carry Beatrix and Noelle to bed. Skylar crawls over to Emilia. 

“Em? Can we play Uno?”

“Yeah, sure, Sky. Let’s go see if any of the boys want to play.” 

Unsurprisingly, the boys are still up, Shiloh and Emeron even wrestling again on the floor.

“Okay, okay, do you guys want to play Uno?”

Shiloh looks up, holding Emerson down. “Yeah, sure!”

Emilia divides the cards amongst the six of them, and they play a few games of Uno before Shiloh and Emerson get bored and start wrestling again. 

“Uno, huh?” Richie asks from the doorway.

“Yeah,” Emilia says. She looks back at Shiloh and Emerson. “They don’t stop fighting, do they?”

“No!” Shiloh yells.

“And they enjoy it, too.”

“Guys, we should watch _Cars 2_!” Dylan suggests, pulling out the disk. 

Richie yawns into his hand. “You guys aren’t tired?”

“Nope,” Ryder says. “You’re weak.”

“No. I’m old, and everyone else is drinking.”

“You’re not _old_ ,” Emilia says, rolling her eyes. “Old is like… forty? Yeah.”

“Well, I’m closer to forty than twenty.”

Emilia laughs. “Well. Goodnight, then.”

“Hell no. I’m watching _Cars 2_.”

Emilia rolls her eyes again as the movie starts. 

Shiloh and Emerson pass out halfway through, finally exhausted from all the fighting and football. 

Emilia starts another game of Uno with Ryder and Skylar, because Richie and Dylan both fell asleep as well, closer to the end of the movie. 

Ryder yawns, lying back. “Uno.”

“You guys are still up?” Eddie asks, walking into the room. Stan and Mike follow him in. 

“Yes. Well.” Em cocks her head toward Richie, smirking.

“Not surprising.”

“Go to bed, jeez.” Bev walks in, picking up Shiloh. 

“It’s only midnight!” Emilia protests.

“Everyone else is going to bed,” Mike tells her, picking up Dylan. 

“My kids don’t sleep.” Eddie shakes his head.

“Sky, are you ready for bed?” Stan asks, crouching down so he’s on her level.

She shakes her head. “No thank you.”

Bev snorts. “Good luck with that.”

“Shit,” Stan mumbles, standing up. “Uh… Eddie, help.” 

“One second,” Eddie says, helping Bev with Emerson. “Okay, let’s just tire them out. We can play a quick game of flashlight tag, hide and seek, something like that. And then just go to bed after.”

“Okay. Emilia, wann play flashlight tag?”

A few minutes later, Emilia and Eddie are hiding in the same spot. 

“I know what you’re doing,” Emilia says. 

“And is it working?”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

“Found you!” Ryder exclaims, shining the flashlight on them and laughing. “Okay, Emilia’s it!”

It’s a few more round before Skylar requests for Stan to carry her, and then Eddie suggests they go back inside where Ryder immediately heads to the room he shares with Dylan, Shiloh, and EMerson. 

“Told you it would work,” Eddie tells Emilia. 

“I had no doubts. I’m going to bed, too.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Em.”

“Goodnight, Dada.”

Mike, Julie, Ben, and Bill are still out by the fire, everyone else having already turned in for the night. 

Eddie walks back into the family room, sitting down next to Richie and throwing an arm around his shoulder. 

“Mm… hey, baby,” Richie murmurs, letting his head loll onto Eddie’s shoulder.

“Hi,” Eddie says, pressing a kiss to the crown of Richie’s head.

“The kids in bed?”

“Mhm. We should go, too.”

Eddie stands, pulling Richie up with him and wincing as his back cracks. 

“Jeez. You are getting old.”

“I’m tall, okay?!” Richie defends.

“Okay.” Eddie chuckles. They quickly brush their teeth, and then Eddie changes into an old tee and a pair of shorts. 

“Richie, take off your glasses.”

“I am, I am,” Richie mumbles groggily, pulling them off with heavy hands. 

Eddie sighs and leans back, still feeling the sun on his face and the waves rock his body. 

“I love the beach. I’m so glad we do this.”

“Me too,” Richie agrees, rolling over to spoon Eddie. “Ow. Fuck.”

“Are you burnt?” Eddie smirks. 

“Lil’ bit.”

“You should really wear sunscreen.”

“Eventually.”

“When you’re forty?”

Richie snorts. “That’s not a real age.”

They fall asleep then, still feeling the sun on their faces from the sixteen hours spent on the sand. 

And the beach is one of the best places to be.

* * *

“Ryder, have you seen my shoes?”

“No, why would I have your shoes?”

“I don’t know, I just can’t find them.”

“They’re right by the door,” Richie informs Emilia, fixing the lights on his ugly Christmas sweater.

Emilia walks out of her room and starts buckling the golden heels Bev bought her last Christmas. She’s wearing a dress Bev made for her, with a plaid skirt that flares out at the waist and a red bodice, with puffy sleeves. It’s one of her favorites, and she’s been saving it for a special occasion. 

“You look beautiful, Emilia,” Richie says. “Did you get the zipper up okay?”

Emilia nods. “Yes. Can you braid my hair?”

Some things never change. 

Richie smiles. “Sure, do you have a scrunchie?”

Emilia hands him her gold scrunchie, and he starts a crown braid, carefully brushing his fingers through her curls. 

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Of course. Eddie Spaghetti, are you ready?” Richie chuckles at the rhyme. 

“If you say ‘I’m a poet and I didn't even know it’ I will actually throw up in my mouth,” Eddie says, walking down the stairs. 

“I was going to say you take forever, but in that case-” 

“Why do we have to get dressed up? It’s only Ben and Bev’s,” Ryder complains, pulling on his dress shoes. 

“Grandma is coming for a little bit, okay? We need to make sure she knows we’re not hooligans.”

“She went to your wedding, I think she knows,” Ryder says dryly.

“Okay, you weren’t even there, so how do you know?” Emilia asks, ruffling his hair. 

“Stop! I worked hard on that!”

“On what?” she asks, laughing. 

Eddie shoots her a look. “Your hair looks great, sweetie.”

“Thank you.”

“Okay, let’s go.” 

“Fashionably late, as usual,” Richie says when he walks in the door. 

“If you’re fashionably late then I quit my job,” Bev says, looking stunning in a bright red dress. She takes one look at his ugly Christmas sweater and then gives him a hug. “Merry Christmas Eve, you idiot.”

“You too.”

“Emmy!” Noelle yells, running up to greet her older cousin. “Do you like my dress?” She does a little twirl, showing off her dark green dress. Her tight, curly hair is in pigtails with green bows holding them in place. 

“I love it! Merry Christmas Eve, Noelle.”

“Merry Christmas Eve, Emmy,” Skylar says shyly, following Dylan into the room. 

“Ryder, we just got the Wii set up, come on!” he says, pulling on Ryder’s hand. 

“Okay, see you guys!”

Emilia laughs. “Is Grandma here yet?”

“She’s on her way,” Julie says, looking amazing in a green dress very similar to her daughter’s. Mike is wearing a dark green shirt, and Dylan also has accents of green in his outfit. Richie and Eddie went for gold, Stan and Bill went for blue, as Stan celebrates Hanukkah, and decided Skylar would celebrate both. She’s wearing a pretty blue dress with a white bow around the middle. Bev and Ben went all red, Beatrix wearing a bright red tutu skirt with a huge bow in her hair. 

“Emmy, we’re playing kitchen, do you want to come?” Beatrix asks. 

“Of course! Merry Christmas Eve, everybody,” Emilia tells the adults, waving at them as she follows her little cousins out. 

“She’s s-such a g-good kid,” Bill starts. 

“Seriously. I don’t know many fourteen-year-olds that would willingly play with their younger cousins the way she does,” Stan continues. 

“Well, family is very important to her,” Richie says. 

“It is to all of us,” Eddie says. “She grew up in such a loving family, and maybe we’re not biological siblings but hell, it sure feels like it.”

“And that’s enough.” Bev pours drinks for everyone, simply switching out wine for grape juice in Richie’s glass. “To the Losers?”

“To the Losers!” everyone choruses back. 

There’s a knock on the door. 

“Kids, Grandma’s here!”

After Ryder and Dylan were born, Richie’s Grandma started spending a lot more time with the kids, and now they all just call her Grandma. She’s accepted them as her grandkids as much as they’ve accepted each other as their cousins, and Richie couldn’t be more grateful for that fact. 

“Merry Christmas!” Ryder yells, rushing to greet her at the door.

“Merry Christmas Eve,” she corrects, hugging him, and then greeting all the kids in turn. Emilia is last. “Emilia, you look so grown up,” she says. 

“Thanks, Grandma.” Emmy blushes. “Merry Christmas Eve.” 

Grandma smiles and then heads into the living room to talk to Richie and catch up. Mike is almost finished with dinner, so everyone starts to congregate in the kitchen, including Shiloh and Emerson, who emerge from the game room for the first time that day. 

How Bev wrestled them into suits? Emilia doesn’t know, and she also doesn’t know how long they’ll stay that way. She makes sure to sit between them during dinner so they don’t fight. 

“I told you, I was better at that-”

“Sh, Grandma’s saying grace,” Ben says, bowing his head. 

“Grace,” Emerson says, snickering. 

“Shut up-”

“Dear Lord, thank you for this meal, thank you for my wonderful grandson, his friends, and all of their children for accepting me into their family and letting me be here tonight, Lord, thank you for this wonderful food and the roof over our heads, and I pray for everyone who isn’t as lucky as we are, and that they are able to have a good Christmas too, Lord, amen.”

“Amen.”

“Okay, Stan, you brought the eggnog, right?” Richie asks, standing up to go to the fridge.

“Hell yes. It’s the only thing we agree on and the only part of Christmas I believe in.”

“Okay, both of those things are l-l-lies.”

“No, they’re not,” Stan says, pouring himself a glass and then pouring another and handing it to Richie. 

“That stuff is disgusting, I don’t know how you drink it,” Mike says. 

“Agreed,” Julie says, taking a sip of her wine. 

“It’s good in a cocktail, but that’s it,” Bev states.

“Yeah,” Ben says, taking a bite of turkey.

“Yes, they a-are. You agree on p-plenty of sh-shit, and you believe in sp-spending time tog-together.”

Stan rolls his eyes. “Sure, make me out to be a hug sap, now would you?”

“Daddy? Can I have a cup?” Skylar asks, gesturing toward the eggnog.

“Sure, sweetie.”

“She likes that shit?” Eddie asks. 

“You’re a monster,” Mike says, shuddering. 

Richie laughs. “Nah, Em likes it too. It is delicious.”

Richie brings Stan up to the kitchen. “We’re pranking him later, right?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Eggnog is good,” Grandma declares.

“Thank you!” Richie says, raising his glass. 

“Okay, I’m out. Julie made cookies, and they’re much better than eggnog!”

“Cookies?” Shiloh asks. 

“Shit,” Bev says. “You can have _one_ cookie-”

He’s already left the room. 

“Ben, can you go-”

“Yes, be right back.”

Beatrix and Noelle finish eating and barely give Emilia time to finish before they drag her back off to the playroom. Skylar follows them after finishing her eggnog, after almost spilling some on her dress and having a meltdown. Luckily, Stan caught her cup before that could happen. Emerson, Ryder, and Dylan wander back into the game room, and probably sneak a few cookies if Shiloh bouncing up and down is anything to judge by. 

“This is going to be a long night,” Bev says. 

“Nah, we can use the Santa trick,” Richie informs her. “Also, if he gets sugar high, he’ll crash. Trust me. I’ve been there.”

“True story,” Eddie confirms, laughing. “I had to hide all the sweets. He and Emilia are maniacs.”

“I’ve been deprived of sugar, Beverly. You’ve gotta help me.”

“Quit being dramatic,” Julie says, laughing. “But seriously, please try these cookies, I worked really hard on them, and I don’t normally bake. Shiloh will eat anything. I need to know if they suck.”

Richie tries one, chewing thoughtfully. “They do not suck.”

“Oh, thanks.” 

“What recipe did you use?” Grandma asks, trying a snickerdoodle. 

“Oh, just one online,” Julie says. 

“Well, I have one that I’ve been waiting to pass down, and I know Richie here is a disaster in the kitchen-”

“Not true! I can bake!” 

“Like two dishes! Continue,” Eddie says. 

“-so maybe I could show you the recipes.”

“That would be wonderful.” Julie smiles. 

They clear the table, and Eddie and Ben wash the dishes while Richie and Stan mix something over by the bar. Eddie looks over, a little worried, but tries not to let it show. He trusts Richie. Truly. And if he wants to have a bit of alcohol, Eddie supposes that’s okay. They’re all together, it’s not like he’s going to get drunk or anything… 

Shiloh comes shooting through the kitchen like a bat out of hell, Emerson hot on his heels. 

“Tag, you’re it!” he screams, a nerf gun in one hand and spare bullets in the other. 

“Woah, woah, woah,” Mike starts, standing in the middle of the doorway. “Keep the nerf guns inside the playroom, okay?”

“Okay…” Shiloh hangs his head, but his leg is still bouncing.

“How many cookies did you have?” Ben asks. 

“One!” He holds up four fingers. 

“He’ll be fine,” Richie says. 

“Coming from a man who cried when his daughter took her first steps.”

“I-”

“I have it on video Richie, don’t try me,” Bev says, holding up her phone. 

Emilia grabs a cookie and then stands next to her dad and Stan. “What are you guys doing?”

They jump. “Uh…” Richie starts.

“If you’re planning on pranking Uncle Mike, he’s not going to take drinks from you guys. Just saying.”

“We know that!” Richie says, leaning up against the counter in a weak attempt to cover up what he and Stan are doing. 

“Yeah,” Stan continues, nodding. “Totally.”

“Okay.” Emilia takes a bite of the cookie. “Aunt Julie, these are really good!”

“Thanks, sweetie!”

“Mhm. Well. Gotta make sure Shiloh hasn’t killed anybody. Be right back.”

“Yeah, okay. Let us know!”

Richie sighs. “That was close.”

Stan nods. “Okay, he’s with Noelle in the other room, I think she tore her tights… just go ahead and switch the drink.”

“Cool, cool. Will do.”

“And Richie? For the record, me participating in this prank is your Christmas present.”

“Yep. Got it.”

Mike comes back a few minutes later, and picks up his drink. Richie is already snickering behind his hand, and trying his best not to show it. 

Eddie rolls his eyes, immediately knowing what’s going to happen next.

Mike gags. “What the hell, Richie?! Eggnog?”

Richie bursts out laughing. “Y-yea- Stan h-helped-” He’s laughing too hard to continue speaking.

“S-s-stan?” Bill asks, surprised.

“It’s true,” Stan admits, leaning back.

“Traitor!” Mike declares. “Ew, that shit is disgusting. _Disgusting._ I’m getting water.”

“That wasn’t very funny,” Emilia starts.

“Just because you’re a goody-two-shoes,” Richie tells her.

“I’m not!”

“Would that be a bad thing?” Eddie asks. 

Richie contemplates it. “Hm… probably not? What are the rest of the kids doing?”

“They put in a movie. Dad, I wanna sing.”

“Yeah? There’s a piano in the other room, you can play a little if you want to.”

Emilia leans her head against Richie’s shoulder. “Yeah. In a minute.”

“Emilia, play us something, please?” Grandma asks. “I’m about to get going, I’d love to hear something.”

Emilia blushes. “Y-yeah. Sure. Okay. Uh… what should I play?” she whispers to Richie. Her hands start shaking.

“Calm down, you’re okay, Em. It’s just family.”

“I know! What do I-”

“How about O Holy Night?” Eddie suggests. 

Emilia nods, and immediately becomes more confident. “Of course.”

She sits down at the piano, and Skylar walks out of the playroom then and looks at Emilia, wanting to sit beside her. Em pats the open spot next to her and Skylar sits down. She starts playing an intro, and everyone goes quiet. 

_O holy night the stars are brightly shining_

_It is the night of our dear Savior's birth_

_Long lay the world in sin and error pining_

_Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth_

Richie smiles at Eddie, holding his hand. _She’s so talented_ , he mouths. Eddie nods.

_A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices_

_For yonder breaks a new glorious morn_

_Fall on your knees_

_O hear the angels' voices_

_O night divine_

_O night when Christ was born_

_O night divine o night_

_O night divine_

The rest of the kids trickle out of the play and game room then, pulled into the room by her gorgeous voice and piano playing. Beatrix sits down next to Bev to enjoy the music, and Shiloh holds his little sister for perhaps the first time since last Christmas. Dylan and Noelle do the same, and Ryder sits down next to Richie. 

_A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices_

_For yonder breaks a new glorious morn_

_Fall on your knees_

_O hear the angels' voices_

_O night divine_

_O night when Christ was born_

_O night divine o night_

_O night divine_

She sings the chorus one last time, finishing with a soft chord and a beautiful run. Everyone claps. She blushes, standing to bow, and pulling Skylar up with her.

“That was amazing, Em,” Grandma tells her, hugging her and giving her a kiss on the forehead. 

“Thank you,” Emilia mumbles quietly. While normally a very outgoing and loud person, playing and sharing music causes her to become quite shy. 

“I love you, and I’ll see you all tomorrow. Merry Christmas Eve.” 

“Goodnight, Grandma!”

“Pretty,” Beatrix says, pointing to the piano. She yawns, pulling at the bow in her hair. 

“What time is it?” Bev asks Ben. 

“Almost eleven,” he replies. 

“Oh! I can start building the fort, if you want!” 

“Uncle Richie help?” Beatrix asks, rubbing her eyes. 

“Ah, it’s so great being the fun Uncle,” Richie brags, standing up. 

Stan flips him the bird. 

“Jealous!”

Richie and Emilia set up a huge blanket fort in the playroom, clearing out all the dolls and dollhouses out of the way so there’s a clear view to the TV and enough room for all the kids to sprawl out inside. Every year on Christmas Eve, everyone spends the night at Ben and Bev’s, and they all have Christmas in their living room. 

Shiloh immediately curls up in a corner, lazily playing with the buttons on his shirt. As expected, he’s crashing heavily after a sugar high. 

“I think it’s time for pajamas,” Emilia says, tapping him on the shoulder. 

He nods, quiet for the first time in forever. Emilia sees him and the rest of the boys upstairs to get into pajamas, and then helps the girls with their dresses, Beatrix first, as she is about to fall asleep standing up. 

“It’s been a long day, huh?” Em asks as she zips up Beatrix’s footie pajamas. 

“Santa tomorrow,” Beatrix replies, once again pulling at the bow in her hair. Emilia takes out her ponytail, brushing it down and then putting all the hair ties away. 

“Yep. Santa’s coming tomorrow.” 

Beatrix smiles, and Bev takes her back downstairs while Julie and Em help Skylar and Noelle get into their pajamas. 

Emilia checks in on everyone in the blanket fort, and only Dylan seems awake. She walks back out into the living room, and Skylar follows her. 

“Sky, what are you doing?”

“Not tired,” she replies, but she clearly is, she keeps yawning and rubbing her eyes. 

“Okay, do you wanna come and sit with me?”

Skylar shakes her head. “Water,” she states.

“Okay, I’ll get you some water.” 

Emilia pours her a glass of water, and Skylar walks over to Stan, setting the water down on the side table next to the couch he and Bill are sitting on. 

“Hi, baby, what’s u-up?” Bill asks, as Skylar crawls onto Stan’s lap.

“Not tired,” she repeats, resting her head on Stan’s shoulder as he holds her.

Stan laughs a little bit. “Okay, Sky.”

She nods her head a little, reaching for his hand and pulling it up to her head. “Can you play my hair?”

He nods, she isn’t usually this forward, but he guesses midnight will do that to a six-year-old.

“That is the s-sweetest th-thing.”

“Is she asleep?” Stan whispers. 

“Mhm,” Bill confirms, pulling out his phone.

“Aw, please no pictures-”

“Too l-late.”

Richie laughs. “Stan being cute with his daughter? The world can never see this confidential information.”

Emilia gives everyone a hug and then walks back into the playroom to lie on the futon and finish watching the movie. She registers it being over vaguely, and sees someone walk into the room, turn the TV off and give her a blanket. 

And before she knows it, Shiloh is jumping on her and screaming, “Santa came! Santa came! Santa! Came! Emilia Tozier-Kaspbrak you better wake the heck up right now-”

“Okay, okay, I’m awake!” 

She sits up, pulling her hair up into a messy bun and looking around. The play room is empty, so she walks out into the living room to see the kids all waiting around the tree, looking extremely excited. Stan and Eddie are sitting on the couch closest to the tree, seemingly guarding it from Shiloh, who looks like he is about to tear into presents that… may or may not even be his. 

“I’m Jewish, I shouldn’t even be awake right now,” Stan mumbles, taking a sip of coffee.

“What time is it?” Emilia asks. 

“Take a guess,” Richie tells her. 

“Six?”

Richie shakes his head.

“Five?”

“Five thirty,” Eddie says, handing Richie a cup of coffee. “We tried to at least eat first…? Nobody wanted to. Mike and Julie are starting the cinnamon rolls, so we’re just waiting for them to come here so we can start presents.”

“Mama! Please come here!” Noelle yells, looking at a present with her name on it.

“Coming!”

“That’s what she said!” Richie yells. 

Emilia snorts.

“You weren’t supposed to understand that.”

“Well…”

“Can we open presents now? Please?” Emerson asks, looking extremely eager.

“Sure, just let me-” Bev doesn’t get another word out, and is fumbling for her phone while all the kids tear into their presents. Emilia and Skylar are a bit more civilized about it, though. 

“Art supplies!” Skylar exclaims, her face lighting up as she examines all the oil pastels. 

Stan smiles at Bill. “Good job, Santa.”

Emilia opens her present, finding a few sweatshirts and a few new books, both obviously from Eddie. “Thanks, Dada.”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

“New nerf guns! Alright!” Shiloh says, trying to open the guns right away. Emerson figures out how to open his before Shiloh does, and this almost causes a fight, but Mike tells them he’ll help them after everyone else is done opening presents.

Beatrix gets a shit ton of clothes, and Noelle gets a book all about animals, because after visiting the zoo earlier that fall, that’s her newest obsession. 

Dylan gets a bunch of baseball cards, and a bunch of games for the Nintendo Switch that Ryder opens. They hang out so much, they’ll basically share the thing.

“A switch? This is the best present ever! Thanks so much!” He turns to Richie and Eddie.

“Thank Santa, kid,” Richie says.

Beatrix opens a pack of butterfly clips, and Emilia helps her pin her hair back.

“Beatrix is going to be a fashion icon when she grows up, no cap,” Em says, opening her last present.

“I’m sorry, what?” Richie asks. 

“Get with the times, Richie,” Bev says. “She just said Beatrix is going to be a fashion icon when she grows up, and that’s the truth.”

“No cap?” Richie asks. 

“Yeah, it means truth, tea, period, no cap…” Emilia explains, putting her present down. “Like, and, if you’re capping, you’re lying. Get it?”

“Yeah. No cap,” Richie says. 

“Emilia, why did you do that? Now he’s never going to stop saying it,” Julie says, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Whoops.” Em giggles and then finishes opening her present. “Holy shit-take mushrooms! Heelys? Oh my goodness, thanks so so much, oh my gosh-”

Eddie turns to Richie, glaring. “I _told_ you, to tell Santa no-”

“Eds, look how happy she is. Come on.”

Eddie’s gaze softens as he looks at his daughter. “Fine. You’re stupid.”

“You love me.”

“Didn’t say I didn’t.”

“Guys, the cinnamon rolls are ready!” 

The kids run into the kitchen, eat grabbing a plate and then sitting down around the family room. 

Grandma arrives a little later, bringing more presents, and then the kids go outside for a bit to play in the snow. 

Richie watches wistfully from the window.

If you told him fifteen years ago that he and his friends would be married, have kids, and still hang out all the time, he’d have laughed, cigarette in his hand and brain utterly empty and sad. 

But here he is, surrounded by people who love him, and he loves them, and he really couldn’t be happier. 

“Eds?”

“Mm?”

“I love you.” He presses a kiss to Eddie’s neck. 

“I love you, too.” 

Emilia and Ryder rush through the door, Dylan and Skylar trailing after them, noses and cheeks flushed with cold and teeth chattering a bit. 

“Hot cocoa?” Emilia asks. 

Richie smiles, and gets to work making it, with milk, the way Grandma made it when his mom was sober and they all spent time together. 

He looks around again because he made this family.

They all did.

They’re Losers, and Lovers, and they’ve been friends for almost twenty years now, which is _insane_. 

Most middle school friend groups don’t make it through high school, let alone long enough to be at each others weddings, and see each other’s children, be Uncles to said children-

“Dad? Are you okay?” Emilia asks, looking a little worried, but still the kind of happy only Christmas can bring as she sips her hot cocoa.

“Yeah. Just… love you guys is all.”

“I knew you were a sap!” Eddie says. “I knew it!”

“Shut up. I have footage of you at our wedding. I _will_ pull it up.”

“I have blackmail on you, too, remember that one time-”

“ _No_!” Richie stops him right there. “Can’t I just enjoy my family?”

“Of course. But we’re still going to call you a sap.”

“Fair enough.” 

_Fair enough._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi again!  
> did you like it?  
> did you hate it?  
> comment below your favorite part, constructive criticism, tell me about your day, don't be shy, i just wanna talk to you guys!
> 
> this is the end i guess.  
> thank you so much for sticking around for the long run.  
> and, oh! if y'all want to see some one-shots of the different families and the kiddos having adventures or things like that, or other holidays, or just one-shots with reddie and/or stenbrough and/or benverly and/or mulie? jike? in the lover universe, please comment and lmk!  
> it's summer and we're in quarantine so i have plenty of time to write  
> also,,, (this is the last thing i promise!) what did y'all think of julie? she's one of my first ocs? i think?  
> so.  
> yeah.  
> well, this has been amazing guys.  
> i loved (almost) every minute.  
> except for the parts where i wanted to throw my computer out the window.  
> peace out!  
> <3 :) <3


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